Highwind
by Juular
Summary: Dragged into another world by unknown forces, Rhea Daae must withstand the dangers of Spira and uncover the reason she has been brought to this strange land. As worlds bridge, an ancient danger looms, and she must survive it. - Ch. 4 is up -
1. prologue

_Yes, this is a novelization. Yes, this is NOT one of my M stories, apparently. Is the main character an OC? Yes. Is this a sucked-in fic? So to speak, but, not quite._

prologue

Into . . .

Enter the silence of eternity. Enter the cosmic void of living time. The force that wraps itself around all worlds like a serpent. Yes, this force lives. It breathes. It knows. And it _sees_. Is it a watchdog for some greater, far more incomprehensible force or being? That is unkown. It is not important. It is, and that is the end of the matter. However, it is not the end of the story. What I have come to believe is that time is either the writer or the curator of all stories. All tales, whether they be fictitious or factual. It is the guiding hand that places you where you need to be when it deems you need be there. Shaping your mind, your heart, and your soul throughout your life for something. Something that will be of the greatest importance to you, personally. And maybe to others, as well, possibly.

So, yes, from what I understand time has created good and evil. Or at least what _it_ perceives to be good and evil. It shapes those who are good, righteous – or at least fight for the greater good – like a master artist carving his work from stone or wood. And so in a similar way it must warp evil. Creating a mind that is twisted or misguided enough to cause destruction, death, and sorrow. And, whether it has meant to do this or not, evil became the greater force.

Like a malignancy it spread throughout the universe – or universes – and consumed the minds of the weak or the very strong. Good was in such few numbers, and those of evil – those consumed by darkness – were many and far stronger. The early beings who formed in the universe fought against this tide, and many lost. However, the forces of good proved their worth in one final strike. Just when all looked lost, there was a final, ultimate strike that shattered the strength of evil.

But the dark can never be killed.

It came back like a festering wound; a virus. Seeping into societies and corrupting them across the expanse of space and time. No longer as gloriously magnificent as it once was, it was mostly satisfied with simply ruining lives and eventually causing whole worlds to implode; their societies destroying themselves in their corruption. Those great worlds that once fought off the dark so valiantly – and won – had now been consumed by it all over again. But not nearly to that extent. Good was still prevalent, and the dark never had enough strength to amass itself anymore.

However, on worlds where hate was strong, the dark was equally great – and became greater. - _May Fires Speak Truthfully_

XXX

_Fiction can become real so easily. The pages of a science fiction novel can suddenly leap out at you, because we know nothing of the nature of reality. Humans, as we are, have barely scraped the surface of what is out there; of the truth of things. _

_ There are two sides to our world. One where strife now reigns, and the other where there is peace. It is, and is not, our choice which side we are on, or when and how we may travel from one to the other. This burns beneath the skin of many, driving them to the brink of self-destruction. However, for others, this knowledge grants them vision. A key to the door. A beginning of an awakening. _

_ How immanent, this light?_

_ This is not fact. This is not fiction. Listen with an open heart; hear it with a free mind. Let this telling be true, and let it overtake you. _

_ Listen to our story. For it bridges eons. _


	2. Chapter 1:  Prelude to the Fringe

Chapter One: Prelude to the Fringe

I was ripped out of my sleep by a blaring alarm. My dreams were destroyed by what felt like a nuclear warhead going off in my ears. My eyes opened wide, staring madly into my pillow as the grating cries of my clock continued to rape my ears. I shut my eyes with a groan and buried my face into my pillow, desperately wishing that I could go back to sleep, that I didn't have to go to school today, that today could have at least been Friday . . . .

I almost _did_ fall asleep.

"Rhea!" My mother called, rapping on my bedroom door. "Get up, Rhea! I'm not letting you stay home again."

"Because you hate me," I called out to her wearily, rolling over and snuggling deeper into my comforter.

"Uh-huh. Because if I loved you I wouldn't have put you in school and you'd be a complete idiot."

"Yep." I answered. There was a pause, and my sleep deprived brain thought for a minute that I had won this little war. You know how being half asleep affects the mind, right? Makes you think things that aren't real, or something to that effect.

"Rhea Allison Daae, you get out of bed right _now_!" My father roared. I shot up and struggled against the blankets to get out of bed, landing harshly on the floor. My elbow started to throb after a quick spike of pain, and that damned alarm clock was still screeching. I sat up, my eyelids drooping shut sleepily.

I raised my head in the general direction of the alarm clock – or, at least the direction I thought it was in; I felt like a bat going off of echolocation or something – and snapped, "Shut up!" My brain chose this moment to tell me that I had just inadvertently screwed myself.

"_What_ did you just tell me to do?" My dad yelled. _Oh, shit, what's in the bucket . . ?_ ran through my head.

I was awake.

I fought my way out of my blankets, slipping comically on the smooth, wooden floor as I tried to stand. After switching off my alarm and quickly locking my door I yelled, "Sorry, dad, I'm in the shower!" I ran into my bathroom and slammed the door before he could question this. I leaned on the sink, taking a deep breath as I waited for my heartbeat to slow.

My mornings were usually like this.

I walked to the tub and cranked the hot water on. The pounding stream filled the tub with steam that began to raise up into the air and choke the tiny room. I switched on the air conditioner to counteract the steam and, after undressing, jumped into the shower.

Whenever I woke up I always had that odd, still asleep feeling, like I was one of the walking dead. I would usually shuffle around, rubbing my eyes and feeling all around horrible. My mind would drift to which classes I would sleep in to make up for the sleep I didn't get during the night (damn my computer). But, just when all hope seemed lost, the hot water actually wakes me up, which is weird, because I remember that when I was a kid the warm baths would make me fall asleep. My mother would actually have to bathe me because she was afraid I'd drown.

As I was drying off I looked at the distored reflection in the mirror, the steam having fogged it up, and slowly wiped some of it away. If you want to understand me then you have to know a few things. I'm not popular. I hate the very concept of popularity, and how to obtain it it's almost like you have to sell your soul. I'd rather die than change myself. I'm a definite tomboy. Physically I'm very athletic, but I spend more time in a gym that actually being outside, so I'm not _too_ tan. My hair is a dark, chestnut brown, and falls to just below my shoulders. Of course I usually keep it in a ponytail to keep it out of my eyes. My eyes, speaking of which, are hazel with prominent copper/amber rings around the pupils. I stand around five-foot four or so, as well.

The air in my room felt very cold compared to the muggy bathroom, and I started to shiver almost immediately as I threw open drawers, tossing clothes onto the bed.

"Rhea!" My mom called from downstairs.

Dammit!

"Just a minute," I replied, almost falling over as I hopped around trying to tug on a pair of baggy cargo pants. I put on a t-shirt with black and white horizontal stripes and stepped into a pair os hiking boots. My room was an absolute mess. TV on the dresser, which was covered in old magazines; I had clothes on the floor that I'd been meaning to wash for a few days, and textbooks and papers scattered near my desk. My bed was anything _but_ made. The fact that the blinds were closed and that it was still dark outside made my room almost pitch black. Ironically the few sources of light – leaking in from under the door, the red clock lights, and the TV – made it even harder to see anything.

I gathered some books and dropped them on the bed. The binder was next, and I had to clean up the mess of papers and stuff them into it without destroying them in the process. After that was accomplished I threw it onto bed. But, it overshot the books and slid off the other side. I paused a closed my eyes, feeling like I wanted to scream or punch my TV in blind fury. I took deep, measured breaths, unclenching my hands and laying them flat on the floor while I tried to get my irritable morning emotions under control.

I stood slowy and went to my dresser. I grabbed a old, torn, faded tan cap and a black handkerchief with white designs and walked back to my bed. I dropped the cap near my pillow and stuffed the handkerchief into my back pocket. I collected my binder – again – and drug my backpack to the bed. My books and binder all went in, as well as my cap. I grabbed an empty duffel bag and stuffed a towel, a stick of deodorant, some tennis shoes, a navy blue t-shirt, and a pair of baggy black gym shorts – you know, the kind that hang down to, or maybe even past, your knees.

I threw it next to my backpack and sifted through the covers looking for my iPod. I found it on the floor, actually _under_ my bed. I also discovered that it was still on and the power had drained so low that if I wanted to use it I probably wouldn't get much more than a few minutes.

Even further frustrated I switched it off and dropped it onto the pillow. I went back into the bathroom to brush my teeth and as I came back out I tied my hair back into a ponytail. I shrugged on my backpack and grabbed the duffel bag before heading downstairs.

My mom was eating breakfast in the kitchen, watching the news on a TV sitting on the counter. There was a plate of cold bacon and half an omelet on the table for me next to a mug of equally cold coffee. My dad was probably in his office on his computer. I looked at the clock and then the food, calculating how much time I had to eat if any.

Deciding I had about five minutes I dropped my backpack and duffel and sat down, eating ravenously. My mom looked at me with raised eyebrows, "See what happens when you don't listen to your clock?" She chided softly.

I rolled my eyes but nodded as I gulped down some of the coffee. I heard my dad walking in, his dress shoes slapping the tiled floor obnoxiously, "Morning, dad," I said through a mouthful of egg.

His salutation was, "Finish your homework?"

I paused and lowered my fork, "Sorta."

He turned a little and cocked an eyebrow, "Sorta?"

"There's a little bit I need to do, but I can do it on the bus. Even at the bus stop, maybe."

He sighed but nodded nonetheless, "Just make sure it's done."

"Don't worry, I will," I assured him. I glanced at the clock and groaned. Another swig of coffee and I was leaving, saying my goodbyes to my parents.

We lived in a townhouse, situated in the middle of a block of the ugly, colorful things. Most were thin, about two the three stories – mine was a three story – and they were packed together like an apartment complex, and not nearly as nice as some of _those_!

The sky was still dark, but mostly because of clouds at this point. You could see a bit of light trying to break through them as the sun rose in the distance. The air had a faint chill to it, but nothing that wouldn't fade in a few hours at the most. The smell of rain was on the breeze, and birds were filling the skies in flocks that flowed and bent, shrinking and expanding like a living thing instead of many things.

The walk to the bus stop was quiet and uneventful. I could clear my head; calm down after the hectic morning. I reached back and unzipped my backpack just a enough to reach in and pull out my cap. I was used to listening to music on the walk across the block and so the morning felt off; quiet.

Trucks from yard care companies were already active; some teams already working. I took out my handkerchief and tied it over my mouth and nose as I walked through the flying blades of grass and dust, which would have most certainly upset my allergies.

When I arrived I wasn't alone. A girl with short red hair was already sitting down on the bench and listening to her own iPod. I sat my backpack on the ground and seated myself next to her.

She took out one of her earbuds, "Sleep well?"

I shook my head and closed my eyes, "You know I didn't, Daphne." Daphne Lord was an old friend of mine. She was seventeen, the same age as me, and we were both seniors in the same high school.

"Let me guess," she smirked, "You waited until late at night to start on your homework, which you didn't finish. Am I right?"

I didn't answer at first. Instead I just sat there for a minute with my eyes closed. Finally I sat up and took out a textbook and a sheet of paper – one of many, but fortunately it was the last one – and a pen.

Daphne snorted, "Yep."

As I started to finish the assignment I asked, "Where's Daimler?"

"I don't know. Hopefully on his way, because I don't have the bus far today." Domino Daimler was another old friend of mine. He was tall, tan, and had unruly blonde hair. A near straight-A student and very athletic. He, Daphne, and I had all been friends since we were little. And about the bus fare, we alternated who paid each day. Today it was Daimler's turn – we called him by his last name, but could not remember why for the lives of us.

"Well, he'll be here," I mumbled. "Knowing him it will be just as the bus is pulling u-" I looked up as Daphne nudged me on the arm. Daimler was walking down the sidewalk towards us; a long, black case rested on his back, held by a strap across his chest. That would be his fencing sword. His favorite sport, and one he was quite adept at, if I do say so myself. He took fencing at school, and practiced afterwards. He wore jeans and a long sleeved Under Armour under a t-shirt. A single braid of hair hung down from the back of his neck to almost his collarbone; falling over his right shoulder almost naturally.

"You're late," I commented drily.

"You're full of it," he replied as he sat down beside me, leaning the case against the side of the glass booth. He looked over what I was doing and shook his head, "Figures."

"Hey!" I cried indignantly.

Daimler looked up at me innocently as Daphne cracked up, "What? I was simply making a statement regarding how I wasn't surpised that you didn't finish your homework last night." I scowled at him and went back to my work. "However, if you had finished _then_ I'd be surprised."

He ducked as I swung at him, and Daphne started laughing almost uncontrollably. "That's not funny," I grumbled, going back to my homework.

"The fuck it isn't!" Daphne snorted. I shot her a look but did not reply. A few minutes later Daphne started to sing out of boredom, and Daimler threatened her with his sword – even though it was dull. She stuck her tongue out at him, but, nevertheless, quieted. I mouthed "thanks" to him, and he nodded, a faint smile on his face.

The bus arrived a little bit later. I decided not to put my book back into my backpack, but kept the pen and paper in it and just carried it under my arm. Daimler handed Daphne and I our half of the fare and we climbed on board, the only three at this particular bus stop. We didn't live in the city where the school was, and Daimler was the only one who could have applied for the school's gateway program, which provided a bus for the students who lived out of the district. But, he had declined because neither Daphne nor I had met the requirements for it, even with Daimler helping us on the subjects we struggled with.

Doing my work on the bus was just as hard as I thought it would be. The constant bumps and shaking made my handwriting even worse, and though Daphne and Daimler tried to steady me it didn't do much.

Daimler didn't help the situation. At the worst times he would point something out and just say, "That's not right," or, "Close, but no cigar."

I would sigh and ask, "So what's the answer?"

He just shrugged, "It's your assignment. None of my business." I wanted to stab him with his sword. To just take the damned thing and go full-out Dante on his ass! So, I did the next best thing.

I tried to stab him with my pen.

Unfortunately he snatched his hand away, smiling a little as he looked back out the window. I decided to let it go, my work was more important, anyway. Some people may have thought he was flirting with me, but, I knew better. Daimler was . . . different. I had never once heard him ever speak of prospective relationships in any regard to himself. It was almost like he didn't care.

It took fifteen minutes to get into the city. Morning traffic was choking the streets, and it was starting to rain. A fine sheet of beads covered the windows by the time we reached our stop. I stared glumly at the paper as the bus lurched to a stop, nearly sending my head into the seat in front of us. Yeah, a good concussion was just what I needed! I was as finished as I was going to be, so I put up my homework and followed Daimler while Daphne followed me.

Big, red, bulky and ugly as all get out is a great description of our school. It was pretty much a fat, tall block of red brick situated amidst other, better looking buildings of steel and glass. The much more modern ones made our outdates bomb shelter look like . . well . . an outdated bomb shelter. That's not even a joke. There's about three stories worth of basement and more underneath the ground. Of course no students are allowed down there. That's a big "no-no". Apparently the lower two stories are considered dangerous, but the highest basement level was used by the fencing team and the weightlifting classes.

People were running around, holding whatever they could over their heads. Umbrellas were like dangerous weapons; those little spokes threatening to poke out someone's eyes. Daimler and Daphne pushed through the crowd while I got tumbled around in the chaos. I glimpsed them standing under the main arch of the school, both looking for me. I felt like I was a little kid getting ready to play "Pin the Tail on the Donkey," I was turned around so many times.

Finally I managed to push through and, just as I was making my way up the steps, there was a loud rumble in the heavens. A torrent came down, soaking me almost instantly. The situation seemed so impossible that I just stopped in the middle of the rain, staring numbly into space.

Daimler stepped out into the rain and guided me up under the arch, "Forget to take a shower, Rhea?" He looked up at the clouds, "Kind of impromptu, wouldn't you say?"

I sighed, "Fuck you," I pushed past him, "And he's sitting down, too," I finished the inside joke drily.

"Don't be angry at the gym bag," Daphne scolded as I ripped my towel out of it like guts from a skinned animal, as gruesome as it sounds. I glared at her as I set to work drying myself off. We both had gym for the first hour-and-a-half of the day, so it gave me the perfect excuse. We were both in the girl's locker room, which was mostly empty for the moment. "It serves you well with no complaints when it comes to carrying your sweaty clothes," she continued.

I rolled my eyes, "Today is turning out to be _very_ bad."

"It's a morning, it's a school day, it's only Tuesday," she started naming off the reasons herself, the ones she knew I would be using, "You didn't get a lot of sleep, you didn't finish your homework last night, you're still hungry – maybe – ya got drenched, honey," she finished with a bright smile meant to be infectious.

It wasn't.

She shook her head, "It's only the morning, Ray," she said, using a pet name both she and Daimler – mostly just Daphne – used sometimes, "You can't seriously expect to judge a _whole day_ by the quality of a morning, can you?"

I threw down my towel and opened my locker, "In my experience, you can," I answered heatedly. "Whenever the morning sucks, there's an eighty-fire percent chance that the '_whole day_'" I mimicked her, "is gonna suck."

Daphne snorted, "So you admit there's still a fifteen percent chance that the day will be good?"

"More than likely just 'okay'," I said pessimistically. Daphne's expression softened and she started to change into the gym uniform we both kept in our lockers. The ones the school said we had to wear. They smelled like mold. By this time more of the class was coming in. Most of the girls were drenched or just damp, but most were making a big deal out of it. They were the preps. Why, in the name of all things holy, did I have to get in the class with the majority of airheads?

"Jeez, if they break a nail they act like there's a nuke goin' off," she grumbled, casting an evil eye in their direction.

"They're too worried about their hair," I added.

"Look who's talkin', frizzy," Daphne said with a chuckle. I met her gaze with steeled eyes. She swallowed and looked away, "Never-me-mind." Despite her withdrawing the comment, I pulled off my wet cap and smacked her on the back of the head with it, drawing a shocked yelp from her. The look _she_ gave _me_ made me want to crawl under a rock and die.

One thing about redheads: Never, under _any_ circumstances, piss them off!

I paled, I'm pretty sure, and backed away. She made a noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a grunt, obviously out of anger, but otherwise she went back to what she had been doing. Albeit a little more forcefully, but . . .

At least she didn't violently scalp me or something.

The first classes of the day passed in what I could call a "slow blur". Meaning, that, while they may have seemed to drag on and on and on and . . . yeah, you get the point . . . afterwards it seemed like I couldn't really remember them too well. I'm not complaining, however, it's just an odd feeling.

Lunch came like a welcome friend. Daphne and I were both in one of the lines, Daimler nowhere to be seen, as usual. The crowded room was filled with the raucous din of louder-than-necessary chatter and the stuffy smell of half-assed school cafeteria food.

"So," Daphne grinned wickedly, "what did Mr. O'Connel think of your homework?"

I sighed and leaned against the wall, shuffling a bit to the side as the line inched forward, "He told me my handwriting needs improvement, but, he's glad it's at least somewhat legible."

"But?"

I glowered down at her, "But, he was a little more concerned with the fact that it wasn't complete."

"Yeah, teachers tend to prefer the assignments that way."

"Shut up," I growled.

Daphne poked me playfully in the arm and started looking around the cafeteria, craning her neck to see over some of the other kids. She suddenly did a little hop, drawing an odd expression from me, "Daimler's here!"

"I'll bet he was born late, and I'll bet he'll somehow graduate late," I said with a shake of my head.

"So will you be dropped on your head when you graduate?" Daphne asked innocently.

I felt heat rushing to my cheeks and leaned down, almost in her face, whispering, "Let's see how funny you think it is when I-"

"Hobble hobble," Daimler said, interrupting my rant. He got in line behind Daphne, ignoring the angry cursing of other students – and looked from me to her, "Something the matter?"

Daphne and I looked at each other, "Yes," was our joint reply.

He shrugged, "Alright, then."

I frowned, "What, that's it?"

He nodded, his expression unreadable, "Yep. Never get involved in meaningless arguments."

"And how do you know it's meaningless?" Daphne demanded.

Daimler pointed and we moved forward, following the undulation of the line, "I can tell. Neither of you seem all that angry, maybe just irked. Not pissy or anything, so . . . I deduced," he shrugged again. "Wasn't that hard."

Daphne cocked an eyebrow and squinted up at him, "Don't you just hate it?"

He gave her a questioning look, "Hate what?"

She patted him on the head, "When you can't get all the shampoo out."

Daimler rolled his eyes, "Oh, yeah I– Rhea, keep your eyes on the line– do find it rather irritating," he admitted, running his fingers through his now rather limp hair. The school showers had enough power to erode stone, so pressure wasn't an issue. I guessed he just hadn't had the time.

"Speaking of wetness," Daimler said, almost enthusiastically, "Looks like you've yet to recover completely from your little run-in with Mother Nature," he joked, tugging on my sleeve.

"I'll bite your fingers off," I growled, trying to sound menacing.

"Good luck," he scoffed.

The line snaked forward slowly, seeming to move much slower than it should have been. Conversation dwindled and finally died. In short, life sucked. School was not the epitome of how much it sucked, it was _why_ life sucked.

XXX

I decided to skip my next class after lunch. For a while I just sat in a stall in one of the girl's restrooms; hiding from any roaming administration. I wasn't worried about missing my class. To tell the truth I really just did not care. After a while I got bored – and cramped – and decided on a change of scenery.

On the top floor of the school there was a small, nearly hidden stairway leading to an old, abandoned room. The kids that knew about it – and how to get there – would sometimes cut class and hang out in there. No one remembers what it was used for, and no one's afraid of being caught in there. From what teachers told us, the administration running our hellhole had a cycle when it came to that room.

They would argue for weeks over what to do with it. Most of the time they would take forever to decide on anything, and even then they would spend forever tweaking and squirming over their decision. And then, once they were finally ready, nothing would happen. It was like they just didn't care, in the end. Their little plan would sit on the table for any number of weeks or months, even, and then, eventually, no one would like it anymore. They'd scrap it and start the cycle over again.

The room itself wasn't too big. It had a short row of windows along its west wall, but on days like today most of it would be pretty dark. And because of the people who knew about it and used it from time to time it was relatively clean. There were never any condoms or anything in there, thank god. Usually the worst thing you'd find would be the odd burnt-out cigarette, and even then, that wasn't too often.

Getting there was the tricky part.

Having a friend like Daimler was the only reason I knew how to get there. Daimler was part of an elite, select group of high-achieving students adored by the administration. They spent most of their days out of class, helping other teachers. We called this group the "student corp". Teachers loved them and trusted them, and, as humans – namely our age group – can be, they took advantage of that.

The student corp is made up of those who are in a lot of extracurricular activities, such as sports. Though, by sports I mean lacrosse, soccer, tennis, track, and fencing. There was, in all of this select group, only one football player. Now, don't fet me wrong, I'm not stereotyping. There are some football players who are smart. But . . most are idiots. At least most of the players in my school's team are. How do I know? I've met them all. Some have tried hitting on Daphne – unsuccesfully – and Daimler deals with a lot of them. The smart ones are the kind of guys Daimler and I hang around with sometimes.

Anyway, they took advantage of their privileges. Not really surprising. What happened was that, one day, some of them managed to get ahold of a layout of the school's internal security system. This included camera placement – as if they weren't obviously placed to begin with – and their angles. Using this, they pieced together trails through the school that made use of the cameras' blind spots. They then mapped a way to the highest room. This information was distributed amongst the corp, and then to the privileged few. Meaning, of course, their closest friends. For Daimler, that meant Daphne and I.

The first few times I'd gone up there I'd had a map with me. It was mostly just a series of narrow paths up against the walls and long, complex loops up stairwells. But, as with all things, it became almost reflexive after using the paths – depending on where you were starting from there were multiple ways to go until about the fourth-to-last floor – over and over again.

I reached the stairwell with no problems and crept up to the door. I eased it open, not wanting to make any noise, and then eased it shut behind me. A noise as I was turning made me start. I whirled around, my heart racing, only to find Daphne standing up in a corner of the room, her iPod in one hand and a novel in the other. She looked just as relieved as I felt, and I made my way over to her, throwing down my backpack before sitting down near her.

"Great minds think alike, huh?" She asked, chuckling nervously.

I puffed out my cheeks, feeling like I was exhaling some of the lingering adrenaline, "Yeah, I guess so."

"So, what took you so long?" Daphne asked.

"I wanted to let all the commotion die down, first," I explained.

She shrugged, "I just slipped in during the in-between-class chaos. I've found it to be a lot easier, really. And you get the whole class' worth of time, too, rather than just some."

I guess I saw her point, but, "Daphne, it's only been about fifteen minutes. Our classes are an hour-and-a-half long."

She blinked, her expression making it seem like she didn't understand, "So? Your point?" I shook my head and leaned it back against the wall. Daphne started to snicker at what she saw as the success of her joke. I closed my eyes and decided to take a nap to pass the time.

XXX

_ Ping!_

My eye twitched, and I shifted a little, trying to keep my focus on the textbook in my lap.

_Ping-Shing!_

I squirmed uncomfortably, trying to block out the sounds of steel on steel, the woosh of blades slicing through the air, the pounding of feet on the floor, and the gasps, grunts, and short, chocked yells. It was hard work, and I cursed myself once more for not tending to my iPod better. The one time I forget to charge it and I suffer for it.

Yeah. I'm "suffering".

"Are you finding this as annoying as I am?" I look up to my right. Daphne was trying to do her homework, but, like myself, was distracted by the fencing practice going on in front of us.

"I wouldn't say annoying-"

"The fuck you wouldn't!" Daphne snorted, chuckling quietly and casting a glance at the engagement. "At least _he's_ accomplishing something," she muttered, her irritation seeping into her voice.

"Okay, maybe it is a little annoying-"

"A _little_?"

I shot her a stabbing glare, "You gonna stop correcting me?"

"I'm not correcting you!" She insisted.

"Fine, then. Questioning me."

She averted her eyes, "Well, I wouldn't really call it _questioning_ . . ."

My eyelids drooped, "Uh-huh," I flipped to the next page in my textbook as loudly as possible for added theatrics and tried to study again. Apparently it distracted Daimler. I heard him curse and looked up.

"That was a hit," his opponent said with a laugh, backing up and readying himself. Daimler looked at me, his face invisible because of his mask, but I knew what kind of look he would be giving me. I smiled at him, my cheeks reddening a little in embarrassment. I could hear him grumbling as he walked back into position.

As soon as the two went at it again I leaned closer to Daphne and whispered furiously, "Why are we even here? We have better things to be doing!"

"Such as?" She asked in a much more casual tone.

"Gym."

"And how might we get there, Rhea?" Daphne asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes at me.

I paused, "Right." Daimler was carrying our bus fare. "Damn."

Daphne nodded, "Mm-hm," and went back to her homework. My head lolled back against the wall, and I let out an agrivated sigh.

Equations and abbreviations overflowed from my brain. I blinked, hard, and slammed the book shut with a tired groan. "Hit!" I froze. Without thinking I had just done the same stupid thing from a few minutes ago: Distracted Daimler. As Daphne giggled beside me with sick glee I peeked out from in between my fingers to see Daimler Scowling at me, his mask removed. My eyes lowered to his rapier. The black grip was made for comfort, and a large, intricate guard of silver steel expanded and wrapped over the hilt almost like a flower. The sword was not originally meant to serve for fencing. The edges were dull, and the tip was covered with a foam ball for added protection.

Still, if that thing hit me it would definitely hurt. I mean, something doesn't _have_ to be sharp to break skin.

Daimler preferred to practice after school. Though, usually Daphne and I didn't let him. We preferred just getting to the gym and then getting home. Easy-peasy. Well, at least, it used to be. When we started rotating who brought bus fares things changed. Part of the deal became that on days when Daimler brought the money we would swing by his little "dojo" – which was a term we never used for it in front of him. He seemed to react negatively. In short, those days were usually shorter than days when Daphne or I paid.

As Daimler went to go change I nailed Daphne in the ribs with my elbow, eliciting a sharp hiss. "What do you think you're-"

"Hey! It's not my fault! And besides, Dom don't care," she said, giving me an icy look. "Dom" was another little name of Daimler's, a shortened version of his first name. Usually we were the only ones to call him by his last name, but seldom by his nickname. Go figure, right?

"Uh-huh. Will you back that claim up when he runs me through and-"

"His sword's not sharp, Ray," Daphne groaned, rubbing her side unconsciously.

I ignored the possible euphemism, "It doesn't have to be sharp the break skin!" I asserted. "With enough force almost anything could do it!" After a moment's pause I muttered, "He's plotting my murder right now."

"No, he's not," Daphne sighed, drawing my attention, "I am." She said, deadpanning straight at me.

I shrugged off a shiver and just about stuck my finger in her face, "You even try to and I'll-"

"Die." Daphne cut me off. "If I ever try to kill you, Rhea, understand this: You. Will. Die."

Was it bad that I believed her? _Agreed_ with her?

She smiled sweetly – and menacing look she'd perfected over the years – and went back to her book. I tried to formulate some kind of response, but, to no avail. Now I was scared _she_ would kill me! For all my talk, truthfully, I was just show. Daimler and Dapne knew that. They were kidding whenever they threatened me or each other, but, when they threatened _someone else_ . . . they meant it. To put it simply: I was a runner, not a fighter. Daphne had one hell of a right hook, despite her size, and Daimler . . well . . he was just badass when it came to that sort of thing. As with most things, come to think of it. With me, well, it was like somesomeone invading Russia. Only, I was the invading force. In the long run, I'd have to fall back eventually; my campaign unsuccessful.

When Daimler came back he handed both of us our share of the fare – only after digging around in several pockets, first. We headed outside, bags in hand – or, case on back, for Daimler – to wait for the bus. Now, whenever I talk about the gym, here's what I mean: it's a school board funded, after school program-thing. Most gyms in the city didn't allow unsupervised teenagers in to begin with. But, even with the local administration paying for this there was still a catch: it was only for those on at least one of the sports teams. I was in track – gives a double meaning to "runner" - Daphne was in tennis, and Daimler was, as I've said, in fencing. That technically allowed us access from three-thirty to six-thirty with no trouble.

The gym was actually where I'd met most of the football players. It was also why none of them tried hitting on me. I think I intimidated them. Well, more like I knew that I did. Which was good, given that my bark was generally worse than my bite. I don't have abs or anything, I'm no body builder. But, all-in-all, girls like me seemed to scare guys off. At least in my experience. Daphne . . well . . she just scared them off. Plain and simple. And, if push came to shove, meaning if some guy was hounding me, I'd just get Daimler to kick his ass. This had happened before, and of course led to circulating rumors. These rumors were silenced eventually by Daphne – and I'd rather not say how.

As we went out onto the sidewalk we instantly got the feeling that something was wrong. Or, I did, at least. A cold, tingling chill crawled up my spine and into my head, making me feel very anxious. My hands started to sweat, and my palms felt clammy. But, that wasn't the worst of it. I wish it had been, but . . .

High above us, in the sky, thick, dark, ugly storm clouds had gathered. My mind flashed to dozens of movies like this. The ominous portents. Something that was only the stepping stone to a nightmare; one horror leading to a deeper horror, if you will. The wind had picked up and was now howling through the streets, scattering garbage and tugging at our clothes. Thunder rumbled in the near distance. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

Daphne whistled, long and low, "Damn, that does _not_ look nice."

"Further proof weathermen are idiots. They predicted a cloudless, sunny day," Daimler scoffed.

Daphne snorted, "There's a cataclysmic thunderstorm brewing and you're worried about the weathermen getting shit wrong? Your priorities need straightening."

"And your lips need stitching," he threw back.

Daphne was about to return fire when I snapped, "Could you guys _please_ stop it?" They both looked at me, evidently surprised – no, shocked – by my outburst. Daphne's eyes flicked from mine to Daimler's nervously.

"Hey, it's not like-" She started to say.

"Don't say it or something _will _happen," Daimler muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Lay off, jerk!" Daphne whispered, eyeing me curiously. Now I _really_ felt bad. They must have really thought me a sissy. "It's just a storm, Ray, calm down," she said, taking my hand. Under normal circumstances I would have snatched it away, but not this time. Something just felt _wrong_. My eyes kept getting pulled back to the storm clouds above. The wind picked up in a sudden kick, almost like it was trying to take us with it. I just tightened my grip on Daphne's hand as my anxiety grew. Now, to make matters worse, Daimler seemed to notice that something felt off. His brow knit as he looked up into the clouds. I felt a little relieved. At least I wasn't losing it. However, that relief was short-lived. Because I realized, very quickly, that if he could feel it _too_, then that meant something really was about to go down.

By the time the bus pulled up I was shivering from fear. It was radiating from a twisted knot in my stomach, my whole body wracked by the dread of impending doom that had overtaken me. I released Daphne's hand, not wanting to look like a child being led around by her mother or sister. I took my share of the fare and climbed onto the bus after Daimler and Daphne, depositing it shakily before hurrying to the back with them. I took the aisle seat, and instantly started wringing the hem of my shirt with both hands. My eyes darted wildly from side-to-side, and I felt like it was _now_; the fear reached its peak like a signal. Something was going to happen _now_!

And, well . . . something did.

As the bus driver was closing the doors the vehicle lurched. The driver swore and, jumping out of his seat, ran outside. A growing murmur amongst the passengers turned into an uproar. I heard Daphne gasp and turned to see her leaning over Daimler to look out the window. Slowly, very slowly, time seemed to pass. Passengers started getting up and running outside. I shifted positions, placing my knee on the seat and my hands on the back of my seat and the one in front of me. I leaned closer to the window, my heart pounding out a fierce drum beat in my chest and ears. From outside I could hear people yelling; I could see them running. I finally got my look at what had upset them.

The clouds had begun to spin. Not like a tornado, where the viscious funnel reached down the pulverize all it touched. No, this was like a hurricane. The clouds had all joined into one huge, spiralling mass with an inky black eye at the very center. I was transfixed by fear; paralyzed. I heard tires squeal, followed by numerous bangs of crippling metal. Everyone saw this phenomenon, and they were all mesmerized by the horror that swept down like a blanket, covering the city.

As we watched the wind began to increase in strength. Screams grew louder as trails of debris were lifted up into the sky and sucked into the black hole at the center. And that was when things went, predictably, from bad to worse. We were alone on the bus, and it started to roll.

Daimler reacted first.

"Rhea, we've gotta get off! Move!" He yelled. I scrambled to obey, tripping over the seat and falling into the aisle. I got up quickly, though, and ran – well, kinda – for the open doors. But, just as I reached them they slammed shut. I froze for a moment. Outside, the bus driver was trying to pull the doors open. I found the lever that opened them and tried to force the doors. They refused to budge. I put all my strength into it, even going so far as to lean on the damn thing. Nothing worked. The bus continued to roll.

"What do we do?" I yelled, looking back at Daimler and Daphne. The windows started rattling violently as the wind picked up, throwing the bus forward and me into the aisle. My head hit the edge of a seat and _I_ hit the aisle. My vision swam, and everything seemed to slow again. I pushed myself up and saw the edge of the seat stained red. _My blood_, it clicked. The bus lurched again and I heard Daimler calling my name. My senses returned as I slowly started to recover. I suddenly had the odd feeling that I was on an incline. Looking up, I realized with horror that the back of the bus was lifting off the ground.

Daimler hauled me to my feet and pushed me in between a row of seats. "Daphne," he yelled, "get in between the seats and hold on!" _No_, I thought, _this isn't possible_. He lowered me to my knees and wrapped one arm around me, the other he used to help steady us. "Hold on," he whispered. Seconds later the world jumped. I felt the bus do an impossible fast cartwheel. There was a loud, screaming crunch as the force sheared the front of the bus off. It kept going, moving faster, and the back end just scraped the ground. I got the feeling we were airborne, then. I screamed, that much I know. Daphne may have, I couldn't tell. Not to mention I doubted it. Daimler groaned as he struggled to hold us in place, trying to make use of the centrifugal force being exerted on us by the bus.

After what felt like a horrifying eternity the inside of the bus was plunged into darkness.

We were in the eye of the storm.

Author's Notes: _See what I mean yet? Not _quite_ your average sucked-in fic, as per _how_ she got pulled in. Which is also a question: What is causing this to happen? Also, kudos to anyone who knows where the _"Oh shit, what's in the bucket-," _quote clip comes from. _


	3. Chapter 2: Only Nihility and Memories

Chapter 2 – Only Nihility and Memories

Consumed by the dark. It was a profound, eternal nothingness. I had the feeling that I was in a void. A vast, unbelievable emptiness. Only me. I was barely aware of myself, even. Barely aware of my fiercely beating heart, my rushing adrenaline, the sound of my breathing, and the warm trickle of blood on my forehead. Everything. It was there, but faded. A lingering memory at the back of my mind. I reached out and grabbed that memory. I'm not sure why I did it, though. Something – some impulse; a warning – told me that I had to. To cling to it. It reminded me of something Daimler had once said . . . about memories.

I could feel him, then. His arm around me, holding me close to keep me safe. I opened my mouth and drew in breath, wondering if sound would exist . . . here. "Daim?" I croaked, flooded with relief that I could speak, but disappointed at how weak I sounded.

I could hear him breathing, then. He sucked in a breath, it sounded like he was waking up, and his grip tightened, drawing me further in, "Oh, Rhea!" He gasped. "Rhea, I almost slipped, I almost let it get away, but then you-" He shuddered. "Are you hurt badly?"

I shook my head a little, "I don't know," I answered truthfully, ashamed at how my voice shook.

"Don't worry. It'll be all right. You'll be O.K.," he said soothingly. '_You'll_,' something about how he said that made my stomach wrench.

Something occurred to me, "Daphne!" I called out, my voice croaking pitifully.

For a moment there was no response, and then, "Rhea? Daimler? You're alive?"

"Sorry to disappoint you," Daimler replied sardonically.

"I'm serious!" Daphne yelled. "I didn't know! I couldn't tell!" And then, much softer, she said, "I didn't know if I was dead or alive . . ."

"I think that was something each of us may have asked ourselves," Daimler said somberly.

After a few moment's silence I asked, "Where are we?" I didn't know what I was hoping for, but I just felt like I had to ask.

"Not sure," Daimler answered. There's no way we're in the eye of that storm. No darkness I've ever experienced has been like this."

"It's unnatural," Daphne said from somewhere in the black.

"Accurate description," Daimler agreed with a muffled grunt. He was shifting slowly; I could feel the shoulder of his free arm twisting as if he was feeling around for something.

"What are doing?" I asked.

He didn't stop, but he did answer, "Testing." Blunt and cryptic. Wonderful.

"Testing wha-"

"I can't see anything. I need to feel that there's at least solid matter around us," he explained. I thought about that for a moment. In this darkness – this emptiness – it did feel like we were floating in empty space. It was almost like how I'd felt earlier. Alone with no one around me. Not being able to sense Daimler, or even myself! It was only logical. I wriggled a bit, reaching down with my left hand. It touched upon the gritty, dirty floor of the bus. Like a sudden rush I could suddenly feel the pressure of the floor on my legs, the wall my back was nearly pressed against, and the seats to either side that my skin brushed against as I moved. Even stranger, it was then that I seemed aware that I was breathing air. I hadn't realized it, but, thinking back on it I had just been going through the motions; my body working as it normally would. It was only then that I felt the drag of air as I inhaled and exhaled.

As odd as it seemed, reality was slowly reforming around us; being rebuilt by our memories of it.

How could we have forgotten any of it? Things we had lived with from birth to . . . just recently. Maybe it had to do with Daphne's depiction of this "place": unnatural. Maybe nothing really did exist here, at least not truly. Maybe it took the knowledge of experience for something to _be_ here. It seemed eerily similar to something Daimler had once described to me. He had called it the "holographic universe" theory. Only, according to the way he had depicted it, this seemed like the reverse of it.

"You're noticing it, too, aren't you?" I asked.

His movement's slowed for a moment, and I knew he would be grinding his teeth, something his dentist hated – reportedly – that he always did when deep in thought. His reply was a quick, simple, "Mm."

"Oh, come on!" I hissed. This was one of those situations where you – well, I – needed to hear someone else speak. I needed to hear voices, something reassuring that could anchor me to sanity; to what little clarity I had left. Daimler had always been like a personal pillar, anyway. Whenever something was wrong it was usually he who helped me through it.

"Well, what do you expect? I can't really offer a lengthy explanation, especially when I don't know anything to begin with about what's going on!" He scolded me, his voice only a little harsh. Even after so long he still expected more from me, and was always disappointed whenever he didn't see it.

"Hey, lighten up, Dom!" Daphne snapped, "I don't blame her. This is like something out of the fucking _Twilight Zone_."

Daimler paused, "Hmm. Yes, I can see it now," he said, his voice dripping with scalding sarcasm. "The camera will pan from us to Rod Serling, who's gonna pop up in one of the seats – probably the driver's – and we're not gonna hear him say, 'Three high school seniors are about to learn just how fathomless the wonders and secrets of the universe really are, once they take an unfortunate bus ride into: the Twilight Zone!'" I could envision him rolling his eyes while wearing a wicked little smirk at the corners of his lips.

Daphne took a moment to respond, "Wow, Daim. That was pretty good, actually."

"Yes, well," he grunted as he leaned back, probably reaching for the aisle, "now's not the time to bring up my Shakespearean qualities." He straightened with a disheartened sigh. "Not the effects I was hoping for," he murmured cryptically. I probably wouldn't have even heard him had I not been so close.

"What _were_ you hoping for?" I asked, hoping for an honest answer.

"Not sure. A revelation, maybe. Some kind of clarification." There was a melancholy air to his voice. He was thinking something else as he was speaking.

"'Clarification?' Daim, what the hell are you talking about?" Daphne shouted. She was letting her frustration get to her, making her just as ornery as ever.

"Reality is reforming around us. I was hoping that if we recovered enough something would happen. Just look at us, only minutes ago we could hardly remember who we were! And don't deny it, Daphne, I know that you and Rhea felt the same way." He shifted away from me, and I think he got to his feet, because I could hear him stumble into the aisle, clumsily trying to find his way in the dark.

"How do you know there's a way out of here?" I asked.

"There's a way in, there's a way out." He stated confidently. It wasn't so much arrogance, he just truly believed that. I hoped he was right. There was a creeping cold around the back of my brain, like something was trying to siphon all my memories and experiences back into the nothingness. I feared that feeling of complete emptiness, even though I could vaguely recall it now, it was so unnatural, so _wrong_, that I couldn't possibly go back into that nihility.

"'Let your breath go and swim with me,'" Daimler murmured. "Fitting, here."

"Huh?" I asked stupidly.

"Hm? Oh, it's the chorus of 'The Black Sea' by Disillusion. I was just thinking how it seemed to fit our situation. We're swimming in the blackest ocean of all: a void. That has to be it. Some theories like that have popped up before," he explained, and I could hear him start to fumble towards the front of the bus. I pulled myself up, my legs quivering from being immobile for so long, and dropped into the seat. The openness felt more comfortable now, more natural; it was as if I could sense the confines of the whole of the bus around me, now. Daimler went on, "Some believe in multiple universes, others don't. But, in both cases, there are those who believe that outside of the universe, or in between universes, there is stark emptiness. A kind of . . indescribable absence. No up, no down. No left, no right. No dark, no light-"

"Kinda rules this shit out, then," Daphne huffed. "There's darkness."

Daimler swore under his breath, "It's called a theory, Daphne. No one knows for sure. However, if we are in this _theorized_," he emphasized the fact, "'void,' then apparently there _is _something, just as long as you can remember it, it is."

"I guess all the worthless stuff he's into really isn't that worthless, Daph," I said with a weak chuckle, speaking just for the sake of speaking. I didn't really have anything to add. I guess I was kinda worried that by not making myself known every so often would make them forget me, and I had no idea what would happen _then_, regardless of whether or not I remembered myself. Was it possible to just drop out of someone else's reality?

Daphne groaned, "It just means he can run his mouth in any situation," she spat, and I could hear her stumble into the aisle. Right before falling down, anyway. At least that's what it sounded like.

"You all right?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Thanks, _Rhea_." I felt a small pang in my heart. They were getting into another one of their fights. She had directed that at Daimler, not so much to me. It was for his "benefit" alone. I hated being in the middle of these little clashes. I always just wanted to back out and hide, like a turtle creeping back into its shell to avoid a snapping alligator, completely ignorant that it didn't matter whether or not it saw the predator, because the gator had already seen _it_.

Before Daimler could respond, though, and before Daphne could add to her taunt, we heard something. My heart skipped a beat, and both Daphne and Daimler froze in place. There was a low, distant whistle. Like wind blowing through a tiny hole.

"Anybody know what to make of that?" Daimler asked.

"Not a clue," Daphne answered quietly. The sound was slowly rising in pitch. But, as it grew, it morphed. Just as it seemed it was going to peak, it started to grow deeper. Now it sounded more like howling wind. The windows of the bus started to rattle again, and the seats and walls began to vibrate.

"Let me just say," Daimler yelled over the raging din, "that this is _not_ my fault!" As the surging roar reached its highest, it suddenly vanished in what sounded like a whirlpool, with all the noise being sucked up. There was a short moment of silence, and then the darkness was torn away like a curtain. There wasn't much light, but we could _see_. The quick elation vanished, as we heard the sound of a storm raging around us. Rain was crashing into the walls, roof, and windows like a hailstorm, sounding like machine gun fire.

And then we fell.

We were thrown into the ceiling violently, and for the second time my head crashed into something, only much harder this time. If anyone screamed, the sound was consumed by the storm. I don't know how long the bus fell, but after an eternity of dizzy colors and my insides churning with the feeling of falling, we hit something.

The windows towards the back of the bus exploded, and we fell into the seats. I banged my legs, arms, and stomach onto the thick plastic, but my head was ironically spared this time. I felt sick, and I couldn't breathe. Spears of numbing agony shot through my limbs as I slumped off of the seats and into the aisle. Slowly the front of the bus began to rise into the air, and, after a deafening blast of thunder, lightning lit the front windows, giving only momentary sight to us, and to the rain attacking the glass.

"We're sinking!" Daphne shrieked, her usual calm replaced by utter terror. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had to roll onto my side to look down. She was right. We had hit some body of water, and that was what blew out the glass. Water was bubbling up into the bus as it sank, replacing our much needed air with black liquid.

Terrified, I looked up to see Daimler climbing up the seats. He didn't use his left leg, which was bent at an odd angle. With a sickening realization I knew that it was broken. However, he was going for the doors at the front – top – of the bus. I looked back down at Daphne, who was cradling her broken right arm. There was blood leaking from a wound somewhere under her fiery hair, and her eyes were glued to the creeping waters.

I looked down at myself, realizing that, besides what would become some seriously nasty bruises, I was fine. Well, sort of. I pressed my hand to the side of my face. When I brought it away my fingers and palm were stained bloody red. Biting back a whimper, I decided to suck it up and do something.

Daimler had reached the doors and was fumbling to open them while trying not to fall. The bus lurched and started to lift higher. I had the image in my head of the _Titanic_ and how one half of it had risen straight up before plunging slowly into the abyss of the Atlantic.

I made my way down to Daphne, wary of how the front end of the vehicle was rising. I kept shooting nervous looks back up at Daimler while crawling lower. I had to jolt Daphne to get her attention. She looked helpless, and I couldn't help but nearly gape. Still, I gathered my wits about me and helped her up. I looped my left arm around her and we both started to climb up. Using our legs and one arm each we climbed slowly up the bus, which was now almost halfway full, and was at last pointing straight up.

The dull roar of the wind and rain suddenly became a piercing howl. I raised my head and saw that Daimler had forced the doors open. He slowly made his way down to us to try and help our ascent. I was feeling hopeful. We were actually going to survive! Once we got out, all that was left was to try and swim to safety and get help. That is, if there was any land close enough to reach. I had to accept that we may have been released somewhere far from any shore. At least, any _inhabited_ shore.

Suddenly something wrenched the bus, shaking it violently. My grip on Daphne slipped, and I fumbled to grab hold of her again. The bus was hit again, even harder this time. Daphne fell away from me, and I almost lost my grip on the underside of a seat. I planted my feet firmly on the one below me, and looked down, fearing the worse. Fortunately, Daphne – though now in the water – did not appear hurt any worse.

What happened next will always haunt me. Whenever I close my eyes, this memory shows itself to me, even if only as a brief flash. I hate it. I hate it so much, but it is burned in my mind as if by a scalding red brand.

Metal shrieked, and a hole appeared in the side of the bus, as if slashed by some huge claw. Daphne turned to face the gaping slash, her eyes wide and wild. I was frozen, petrified by some dull sense of horror. Something like an alligator's mouth, with huge, curved teeth, slid in through the tear, gaping wide. Daphne screamed. I screamed. The teeth closed around my friend, and blood poured through them into the water as the mouth pulled back out.

My mind went completely blank. All I could see was that same scene replaying over and over again in my head. I'd read books where the characters had some vain hope that their friends had not died, and let me say, I didn't have the luxury of such hope. I had seen the grisly end, all the blood. She was dead. Daphne was dead, killed by some monster, as hard as it was for me to truly wrap my head around it, that was all it could have been.

A hand on my arm tore me from my thoughts. Daimler's voice penetrated the roar of rain and the fraying fear, "We've gotta get out of here!" I looked up into his eyes. They were brimming with a storm to match the one around us. Horror, disbelief, confusion, anger, sorrow. I wanted to start crying, but that would slow me down. I swallowed as hard as I could and nodded. We both started to climb, both fearing that whatever had gotten our friend would come back for us.

By the time we reached the front – top – of the bus water was already pouring in through the open doors, cascading down over the seats like a waterfall. We fought our way through the torrent, and then out of it into another. The water outside was a pitch black darkness, and freezing cold. Wind tore at out hair and faces, stealing breaths. The waters were churning; rising and falling, pushed madly by the wind that tried to hold power over the waves. The rain drowned out vision, and every time we thought we had a chance to breathe we nearly choked on mouthfulls of rainwater.

We were lost in the dark and wet ocean. That's what it had to be. It may have been the effects of the lack of lighting, but it felt like beneath our feet was only the endless deep of the ocean's crevices and caves. Teeming with all kinds of nightmares that people had fought to prove, and that we had just seen.

I had ahold of a handful of Daimler's shirt. The last thing I wanted to do was get literally lost out here. I'm pretty sure that the thought that passed in my mind had occurred to him at least by that point: that now the line from that song was infinitely more fitting.

Suddenly, amidst the confusing flashes of lightning, the drowning sea and rain, and the freezing cold, Daimler turned and pressed his mouth to my ear and shouted: "Look!" I could see the outline of his arm, index finger extended. I followed it into the expansive distance. At first there was nothing. But, a flash of lightning revealed the hulking outline of something. "It's an island! It's gotta be!"

The two of us started swimming. I made sure to stay close to him, to make sure I could see him with each flash of lightning. I knew that, because of varying factors, one could swim in circles if not careful. The same thing went with being lost in the woods or desert. Just walking aimlessly would put you in an ever-looping wheel.

After a time tragedy struck yet again.

Daimler cried out, I could hear it over the storm. I reached out for him, my heart beating uncontrollably with fear. He must have seen me, because I heard him yell, "Get away! Don't try and-" His words ended with another scream, and he began thrashing madly in the water, fighting against some unseen foe. I started shaking my head, and I was sure I was crying this time. I wanted to scream, but I also wanted to live. He vanished before I started swimming again.

I went as hard and as fast as I could. Long, powerful strokes, as fast as I could manage. I made sure to check every now and then, to make sure the island, as Daimler had hoped, was still there. It grew at an agonizing pace. After what felt like hours of forging on, I would look up to see it was just a speck larger. After swimming, and swimming, and swimming it simply refused to come closer. It was taunting me.

My arms were aching before long. Burning with fire each time I threw out another stroke, cramping as I pulled them through the water to carry on. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. All I knew was that I had to keep going until either I reached land, or died like my friends. Yeah, that's right. I knew it. I felt it in my heart that Daimler was dead, too. I didn't know if whatever got Daphne had gotten him, but something had. And there was always the chance that something could get me, too.

I had always hated swimming. I had a fear of deep water, but, I just could never remember that particular phobia's name. Even in a pool I had to use goggles, because if I closed my eyes to swim I would feel like beneath me was the opening leading directly into the hadopelagic zone. I don't remember where that fear came from, or when I had ever started experiencing it, but for as long as I could remember I had simply been terrified of deep water. I couldn't even dive twelve feet without seizing up for fear of drowning!

And then, at last, I felt sand under my feet. The tell-tale sign of a beach ahead. I plowed on through with renewed determination until I had to walk. My legs felt like lead as I sloshed through the water, further and further until the water itself barely bother me. Even then, when I reached the beach, I didn't stop. I kept going until I was far from where I hoped even the tide could reach. I sank to my knees and fell onto my hands, breathing heavily, my entire body wracked by shivers from the cold, from exhaustion, and from fear.

A heat began to build up in my chest. It worked its way through my body, setting me ablaze. My fingers sanks into the wet sand until I was holding clumps of the stuff in balled fists. My jaw clenched tight and quivered from growing, consuming rage. I took what I would describe as "momentary leave from my emotions." I pounded both of my fists into the sand, leaving scattered impressions, and released a frustrated yell. I hit the sand again, and again, and again. As tears streamed down my cheeks I turned and faced the darkness, my eyes like daggers. I screamed my anger into the storm. I could hardly hear myself over the noise, but I screamed until my throat was raw.

With a pathetic, sorry little whimper I fell down, landing on my side. As my head cleared I let what had happened become clear in my mind. My tears turned to choked sobs, and I curled up on the beach, crying for my friends and for myself. I fell asleep there. And I dreamed.

XXX

_Teacher work day. The cruel, cruel irony of it all. One of the days when they had to work, and we didn't. I hadn't really planned anything out except for sleeping in. With all the homework, the track practice, and the general insomnia that comes with it, I rarely had the time to enjoy a good rest. But now I was looking forward to it. It felt like a well-deserved reward for all the tiring nonsense that I generally cared little to nothing about._

_ The sun was barely creeping through the blinds. Tiny, white slivers in the dim light of my room. The only sound was the breeze of the air conditioner running. Well, that and my own breathing. I sank deeper into the covers, pulling the comforter up around my face and curling into a warm ball, like a cat bunching up to sleep. Just as I felt ready to slip back into a nice little coma, there was a horrendous interruption to my calm._

DING DONG

_My eyes snapped open and darted about wildly. I thought I'd imagined it. That maybe it was some lingering sound from a dream. But, just a few, slow seconds later, the doorbell penetrated the quiet again. I shut my eyes tight and groaned, the lazy half of my brain telling me to ignore it, roll over, and rest. But, after a third time, I gave in and kicked the covers off. _

_ Stumbling sleepily, I made my way out of my room and to the stairs. Careful so as not to trip, I descended with my hand firmly on the banister. The doorbell hadn't rung since, and I hoped that whoever it was had gone away so that I could get back to bed. But, as fate would have it, that wasn't the case. _

_ I slumped against the door and took a moment to rub the sleep from my eyes. Blinking hard, I peered through the peephole. My grouchy morning self took over, and I violently undid the locks and yanked the door open. _

_ Daimler – wearing an Under Armour t-shirt and running pants – looked at me, a humored crease around his eyes and mouth, "Morning, Ray." He sounded cheery._

_ Too cheery._

_ "Whaddaya want?" I demanded with slurred venom. _

_ Daimler took a quick second to look over the state I was in, and one corner of his mouth raised a little higher in an amused smirk, "I'm here to keep you to your word. And mine."_

_ I yawned and started scratching at my neck, "What words?"_

_ Daimler chuckled, "To practice every morning, so as to stay fit for track. And you asked me to make sure you stayed true to that."_

_ "Huh?" It took me a few seconds to remember that, when I first made the track team, I actually _had_ made a personal promise to try and practice every morning, at least when my schedule permitted. And, because I knew how I was, I had asked Daimler to make sure I did as I said I would._

_ Apparently he knew me, too._

_ "You can't be serious!" I whined in protest._

_ Daimler looked like he was trying not to laugh, "Oh, I'm all too serious." With a clap of his hands he said, "Well, go on, you'll want to change first, I guess."_

_ I glared at his hands as he tried to usher me back inside. I looked him briefly in the eye and headed back inside, "Come on in, Daimler," I said with a dejected sigh. He shut the door as I went back up the stairs to my room. I stared at my bed as I closed the door, fighting the temptation to just crawl in and go back to sleep, never minding what my friend said or did. But, fighting the tired desire, I exchanged my pajamas for a white t-shirt and a pair of school-issue track suit pants. I ran back downstairs, somewhat more awake, with my socks and running shoes in hand. _

_ Daimler was leaning against a wall, and as I came down he cocked an eyebrow, "You, uh, couldn't put those on up there?"_

_ "I'm saving time," I answered, brushing past him without a glance._

_ I heard him say, "In whatever odd way, sure."_

_ "It doesn't really make a difference, regardless," I shot back. _

_ "Someone either didn't get enough sleep, or-"_

_ "Or didn't get as much as they wanted!" I finished for him, throwing him an annoyed look. He rolled his eyes and waited for me to slip on my footwear. "Why are you so awake?" I asked._

_ "I have a morning regimen, and, I went to bed _early_." My only reply was a disgusted scoff, because I really had no argument. Daimler was already waiting on the sidewalk as I locked the door, stretching his legs like a professional runner. _

_ "Poser," I snapped, joining him despite my current animosity. Daimler was a great guy and all, but he could still get on my nerves sometimes. Of course, about then my nerves were still pretty frayed from the "lack of sleep" thing. _

_ "Just 'cos I'm not on the team doesn't mean I can't follow proper procedure," Daimler replied coolly. He looked over at me and gave me a kind, toothy smile, "Don't wanna pull anything, right?" I mumbled a quick agreement and finished my stretches. _

_ "So, you got a course planned out?" I asked as I tied my hair back._

_ He shrugged, "Eh. I was just thinking a few times around the block should be enough." His eyes flicked to me, "You?"_

_ I shrugged back, my expression disinterested, "Fine with me."_

_ "All right, then!" He said with a cheerful nod. He gave me a quick, playful wink and took off. I hesitated; a single, forlorn sigh escaped my lips, and then I gave chase. I gained on him quickly, and slowed to a more leisurely pace once alongside him. He was apparently all business now, because he focused on the path ahead and nothing else. I smiled despite myself, and shifted into as professional a demeanor as I could. _

_ Our run took us around the block the first time, but the second time around I decided to alter our course. I pulled ahead of him just long enough to cross the street, and then evened out my pace again. We stayed on that two-block course for the rest of I wasn't sure how long. We just kept running, my endurace holding out like I'd hoped it would. Despite the cool of the morning I had broken out in a sweat in just minutes. We just kept going. _

_ Conscious though faded, my mind just barely processing the sidewalk and where we were going. All I could hear was my breathing; the sound of my feet hitting the pavement in rhythmic patterns, my breaths shifting to sync with each footfall. I processed only the rush of adrenaline as my brain woke up, at long last. Stretching its arms and legs, working its muscles as it shook off the cobwebs from the night before. _

_ It took forever, but I started to feel a stitch in my side after what felt like the passing of hours. We kept going for a while, I didn't want to voice it. I wanted to go until I just couldn't anymore. I truly wanted to push myself and see just what I could take. I threw a glance at Daimler every so often. His hair was stuck to his forehead by that point, glued down by a layer of perspiration that was also covering the rest of his face and neck. His eyes were what stood out, though. They never lost that stone cold determination. I started to wonder._

_ "All right, that's enough!" I called out later as we neared my house. His expression shifted, and we both slowed, ending up walking by the time we reached the pathway leading up to my front door. I interlaced my fingers behind my head to make breathing easier. We rested there for a few minutes, both catching our breath and letting our muscles start to tell us just how angry they were at the sudden stress._

_ "Damn," he laughed through deep gulps of air, "You're good, Rhea." He patted me on the back, giving me a wide, proud smile that had my heart swelling with pride. _

_ "So are you, Daim," I managed. It was then that I voiced my question, the one that had come to mind earlier in our run. "Why didn't you try out for track?"_

_ He shook his head and waved his hand as if to dismiss the query, "It didn't attract me," he answered, nonetheless. "I work out, but I'm no pro athlete. Not like you." _

_ I didn't know if I would call myself a "pro athlete," it was really more of a hobby and a way to keep in shape. I was about as artistic as a stone, and I couldn't act worth a darn. But I knew that track was something I'd be able to do, at least I'd hoped it would be. _

_ As I was going up the path, I paused and called to him as he walked away, "Hey! Thanks for keeping your promise!" He grinned and waved his "welcome." On a whim I added, "We should do it again, sometime." Even though he gave a thumbs up, and as much as I would have loved to, we never did. I guess he trusted me enough, after that, to keep to my own word without his help. _

XXX

_ Somehow it all started with a stick of gum, and the oddest question I had probably ever been asked. _

_ "You ever played a game of chess against yourself?" Daphne asked, extending the little yellow packet. My fingers fumbled and the stick I'd been withdrawing nearly fell out. I caught it with my other hand and looked at her with an expression that wordlessly said, "Are you, maybe, touched?"_

_ She'd rolled her eyes and pocketed the gum, "I'm serious, Rhea, don't look at me like that," she said, casting me a sidelong glance, her brow furrowed a little. _

_ "I'm sorry if I seem a little puzzled, Daph," I said whilst absentmindedly playing with the yet-unwrapped gum, "but that isn't exactly something you hear . . . ever."_

_ "You don't have to act like I'm crazy." She mumbled._

_ "Oh?" I asked, a lilt of laughter in my voice._

_ Her eyes pierced mine like needles, "No. You don't. Just answer the fucking question."_

_ "Language," I scolded sarcastically, unable to hide a smirk. _

_ "Quiet, _Daimler_," she said qith venom. I paused and realized that that little quirk of the lips _had _felt a little too much like his usual looks of amusement. I'd heard of friends rubbing off on others, their tendencies sometimes being taken up by someone else. I attributed it to that. "Well?"_

_ I sighed and shook my head, "Never."_

_ "You should try it sometime." She suggested._

_ "Why on Earth would I do that?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow._

_ "Because. I've found it's kind of peaceful. Maybe a little insightful. You've just gotta look at each side of the board as if it were your own, and match each move you made on one side like you would play against someone else."_

_ "Defeating the entire purpose of playing games to begin with," I surmised with a grin. Daphne scowled and punched me in the arm. "Ow!"_

_ "That's what you get for being an ass," she snapped. "Just try it sometime, 'kay?"_

_ I sighed and hung my head, "All right." I started chewing on the gum she'd given me, and slyly added, "Next time I have absolutely nothing else of even the slighest importance to do, I'll get out the boar- OW!"_

_ And now, a month-and-a-half later, I was stuck at home in an afternoon summer thunderstorm with absolutely nothing of even the slightest importance to do. Daphne was out of town for the week, and Daimler had work followed by fencing, and then some kind of theatre thing. My parents were both at work, and the TV grew dull very fast. I didn't own any gaming consoles because, well, I hated video games with every fiber of my being, and I was absolutely less than tired, so I couldn't sleep. _

_ I sat on the couch for a while, listening to my iPod and watching the rain through the window while the TV droned in the background, like a buzz in the back of my skull. A line the song "Better Think Again" by Submersed made me think of chess. And, before I knew it, the memory of what Daphne had suggested was fresh in my mind._

_ We kept any board games in a hall closet, so I had to dig through a stack of old boxes to find the set. I brought it back into the living room and pulled the coffee table closer to the couch. After clearing it of magazines, I set the board down and positioned all the little wooden military representations. I vaguely remembered how to play. I basically knew what each piece could do, but there were little specifics and rules I was sure I'd forgotten. I didn't care, so I went ahead and started._

_ As I looked down at the game – which I'd set up sideways so that I wouldn't have to turn the board around again and again – I started to question this. It just seemed so pointless! But, out of desperation for something to do, I went ahead and began._

_ I made my usual moves to start it off. I moved a pawn from each side two steps forward, spacing them apart, which is what I would do if I played second in a game. You keep the pawn away from the aggressor and it won't get taken by theirs. I did this for a little bit, moving next my knights. That was when I started to think about something. I bit my lip as I looked over the pieces, realizing I would need to change tactics in order to try and get one side over the other. _

_ So, instead of using my knights as tools, I shifted gears early in the game and used a more diverse style of playing. It wasn't long before I was turning the board around, staring and taking minutes to formulate plans and options. Each time I made a play, it was after careful consideration and calculation. _

_ The game's difficulty increased rapidly. I countered each move I made on one side with an equally difficult move on the other. Keeping important pieces hidden, setting up blockades that stalled attacks on the other for fear of walking straight into destruction. _

_ Pieces were soon dropping off the board as I wormed my way through traps, making it harder on myself by rebuilding them or placing new ones to stop myself, countering every thought I'd had as to how to beat either side. _

_ Hours had passed, and I'd whittled away at all my pieces but the kings. Each little defensive technique I'd gone through had led further and further into deception and necessary suicides for the sake of the current side of the board. At this point, each king was following the other around the squares. One would run, one would attack, and then the other would make an offensive move. _

_ This went on for nearly ten minutes until I gave up. I slumped back into the couch, staring at the board in silence. I tried to think about what had just happened. I'd forced myself to think outside of my usual box. Trying to win in a fight against myself. But, ultimately, I'd had to call a stalemate. I couldn't win in a war with myself. How on Earth did that make any sense?_

XXX

_ "Is this . . _really _such a good idea?" Daphne asked from her perch in the bleachers. She wasn't quite on the top row, but close to it. Her backpack and a few textbooks were strewn about, and she had paused in the middle of opening one to look down and voice her trepidations. _

_ "Is that a question of mine or Rhea's safety?" Daimler craned his neck to look over his shoulder and up at her. His rapier was in his hand, and another – more generic – one was in mine. _

_ Daphne cocked her head, "Who said this was about anyone's safety? You two are holding swords-"_

_ "In a gymnasium that has been rented for the week by my fencing school." Daimler cut her off. "The tournament is in two days. I asked them if I could practice a little before the tournament, and they agreed."_

_ Daphne snorted, "Yeah, but you forgot to mention the dummy you're gonna be using as your Walter." She pointed out, and I ignored the William Tell allusion. "And besides, you're not even practicing for the tournament. You're practicing for _Hamlet_." _

_ Daimler shrugged, "So? And anyway, I don't think Rhea appreciates you calling her a dummy. Or Walter, for that matter!" He glanced back at me and winked. "Also, I don't think she minds. I _did_ ask both of you, and _you _turned down the opporunity. You don't mind, do you, Ray?" He asked, facing me full on. I just shook my head, not wanting to enter the little scuffle verbally._

_ Daphne sighed defeatedly, "Fine. Whatever, Prince of Denmark, just don't kill her."_

_ "It's not even sharp!" Daimler cried, raising the blade into a beam of light. _

_ "Doen't make any difference. I could stab you with a spoon if I was strong enough." Daphne argued stubbornly._

_ Daimler scoffed and shook his head, "Who would you hate enough to stab with a spoo-"_

_ "I was just using it as an example!" Daphne yelled quickly, looking quite frazzled. "Now could you just . . do what you're gonna do, and leave me the hell out of it?"_

_ "Hey, you spoke, I returned words." _

_ Daphne's reply was an evil stare. _

_ Daimler turned back to me, "Ready?" I just nodded and took up what I hoped was a proper stance. He'd showed me a few things before, and we were going to use this as an opportunity for him to give me a little more formal training as well as practice for his play. "Now, remember, I'll be going easy on you."_

_ "Sexist." Daphne yelled._

_ Daimler's sword drooped and his eyes glazed over with irritation, "She's a beginner. You don't throw a child into a pool to teach them how to swim, you guide them along slowly. That way they don't drown."_

_ "Sexist," she reaffirmed irritably._

_ "Screw it," Daimler gave in and turned to me, raising his weapon in a prepared stance, which I mimicked. The match started, and ended, swiftly. I was able to parry and avoid numerous attacks, at the same time managing to throw in a number of my own assaults. He met each one with quick, learned skill, and it was not long before I was forced to surrender. _

_ "You're getting better," he said with a praising smile. _

_ "Ha." Daphne's bland, sarcastic laugh made me wonder whether she was mocking Daimler, or making fun of _me_. Either way, I looked off to the side, feeling hurt despite the lack of proof that the jab had been aimed at me. Daimler apparently noticed, because he crossed the distance to me and laid a hand on my shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. _

_ "Ignore her," he advised. "She's not been herself lately."_

_ I looked from Daphne to him, "Do you know why?"_

_ He shrugged, "Something personal. Not our problem. I've heard some rumors, but, I don't hear anything concrete. If she wants to tell us, she'll tell us. Until then, we just gotta . . well, be here for when we need to be here. You okay?"_

_ I nodded, giving him what I hoped looked like a sincere smile. _

XXX

_"There are numerous interpretations of it," he said, flopping down on __my couch just seconds before I could reach it. I scowled at him and moved on to a recliner, beating Daphne by a heartbeat. She just about snarled before taking another, nearby chair. _

_ We were at my house, alone. My parents were at the movies and I'd invited Daimler and Daphne over to pass the time. We'd been watching TV for a while when Daimler started talking about a book he'd just read, and then a CD and yet another novel that expressed an interesting concept. Just then he had gone to the kitchen to make a bowl of popcorn. Daphne and I had both followed him, nagging him to tell us. He'd refused, and now it seemed he was ready to talk._

_ Daphne crossed her arms, "'Bout damn time!"_

_ Daimler shot her look that both told her to shut up and what would happen if she didn't. He set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table by the couch, "The most common name for it is the holographic universe. Michael Talbot wrote a book explaining the theory, but merely in suggestion to the possibility that it's true. It would explain, as he pretty much said, many 'mystical' experiences." He paused to eat a handful of popcorn, and Daphne and I were forced to wait yet again for him to continue. _

_ "It was only as I was looking further into this topic that I found an album of the same name by Scar Symmetry – a rather good listen, too, if I might add – that was based off of Talbot's studies."_

_ "You said there were multiple interpretations," Daphne cut in. "What were they?"_

_ "Most are unimportant, as they're all relatively the same," Daimler sighed, almost impatiently. Daphne's cheeks reddened as her irritation grew, but Daimler ignored it completely and ate another mouthful of popcorn. "Essentially, some sources state that the universe is a product of some central intelligence. One version states that one person is literally the center of the universe, and that if they notice little irregularities . ." He raised his open hand, palm up, and quickly closed it, "Reality implodes."_

_ "Well, that sucks," Daphne grumbled._

_ I knitted my brow, "So, basically, realizing that nothing is _really _real would cause all things to end?"_

_ "Essentially," Daimler said, nodding faintly. "Other versions say that it's all based on the collective minds of mankind. And that, should too many people realize the truth of things, well," he raised his eyebrows and grinned, "you already know what happens."_

_ "All things undo themselves," Daphne finished for him, anyway._

_ Daimler rolled his eyes, "Yes."_

_ I personally found the idea terrifying, and for a while I became extremely paranoid, looking for any little . . "irregularities"._

XXX

_"Want me to kick his ass?" Daphne asked, no humor in her voice._

_ "'Us,' you mean." Daimler butted in. "I wouldn't want you having all the fun, Daph." _

_ "Really, guys, I'm not in the mood," I grumbled sullenly, drawing my legs in and wrapping my arms around them. _

_ "I am," Daphne said, "So's Daim. We're not kidding," she looked quickly back at Daimler, "Well, I'm not."_

_ "I wasn't kidding, either." Daimler snapped._

_ "Straying from old habits?" Daphne asked skeptically. "Maybe they don't die so hard."_

_ Daimler rolled his eyes, "I'm serious."_

_ "Guys!" They both looked at me, shocked by my outburst. "Please, don't start."_

_ Daimler nodded, "Sorry." He stood and paced to the other side of my room._

_ Daphne huffed, and leaned lower to look me in the eye, "What _did _he do, Rhea?"_

_ I didn't answer._

_ She sighed, "Daimler, have you heard anything?"_

_ "Heard?" He scoffed, "I've heard a lot of things. I don't trust the grapevine, Daphne." His tone changed, and he said, "I don't want to."_

_ "Maybe you should learn to trust what people say," Daphne suggested, "No matter what you hear."_

_ "Rhea said the same thing about-" He paused and looked at me, "Dammit, I forgot the son of a bitch's name."_

_ Daphne started rubbing my arm, "I thinks she kinda wishes she could, too." I noticed Daimler shift, he looked from Daphne to me, where his gaze lingered thoughtfully for a moment. Daphne shrugged, "Hey, you know, if you can't trust guys anymore you could always turn to girls, right?"_

_ "Daphne!" Daimler barked. _

_ Daphne flinched, "What, I'm just saying." She muttered defensively. "Nothing wrong with that, right?" Daimler made a face and looked away. "What?"_

_ "Nothing," he brushed her off with an uneasy calm. "Nevermind, forget I said anything."_

_ "You didn't really say much to begin with."_

_ "Then there's nothing to worry about." Daimler said sweetly, smiling tersely. _

_ Daphne sighed, "Want something to drink?"_

_ I lifted my head a little to protest, "No, you don't-"_

_ "That's a yes!" She proclaimed, jumping up and going to the door. As she passed Daimler I overheard her say, "Get your head out of your ass."_

_ "And yours out of my business." Daimler returned the favor, turning to watch her go. He waited only seconds before kicking the door shut and walking over to me. He knelt down by the bed and cocked his head, "What she said about forgetting, is it something you wish you could do?"_

_ I looked up at him, curious despite my mood. Truthfully I wouldn't have minded much. It was just one of those experiences that would haunt you and play with your heart and head for a while. "Why?" I asked softly._

_ Daimler looked around thoughtfully, probably trying to get down what he was going to say. "In simplest terms I could just say 'don't.' However, that leaves one with questions. Let me put it this way: we are only our own memories, and we're nothing without them. Every little experience, everything we've ever been through shapes us more and more into something else. Whether is something we're destined to be, or something that we simply _should_ be. Without those experiences we equal nothing. Nothing but a blank, worthless slate. Even if it's a memory that hurts. Don't linger on it, but don't forget it. Never forget what has made you who you are. Understand?" _

_ I nodded, and managed a smile as thanks. He returned it, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Daphne came back in, holding a glass of water, and cocked an eyebrow, "Okay, this just looks creepy." Daimler shook his head, his eyes and mouth creasing into one of his silent laughs, and I couldn't help but start laughing. _

XXX

I woke up with the image of my friends still fresh in my mind. I wasn't sure where I was at first, and it was hard to really think straight. My mind felt fuzzy, and all my senses seemed screwed up. I could hear the sound of the waves on the shore, and it was then that I remembered the beach. The storm was gone, it clicked. There was no more rain, no thunder, no crashing, churning seas. Just me. Alone on an island god knew where. I was still pretty groggy, and I couldn't hold my grip on consciousness.

As I slipped back into sleep, the image of Daphne and Daimler, which had been fading, suddenly flared back into full focus. And then a voice, not like any I'd ever heard before, whispered seemingly through the wind: _"Never think it should have been either of them."_


	4. Chapter 3: Over the Edge Out of the Void

_Let me just say, I am going to try and avoid as much as possible making this simply a retelling of the story, but with an OC – in fact, this chapter and later ones should be good examples of this. By the way, just a little warning, I _am _adding an original Spiran race to the fray, just to make the story more interesting. This one is a little short, but, I wanted to go ahead and get it out._

Chapter 3: Over the Edge, Out of the Void

Reality slipped through my fingers like water, floating deep, deep, deep into the shadier confines of unconscious thought until it bled red like wine from the lack of light. A cold warmth wrapped around me like a boa constrictor, squeezing the ability to process even dreams at this point. Everything was either stark black or a blue white haze. It overran my senses, and even as I felt myself slipping up and down in my prison, nothing would seep through my unused senses into the heart of my being, where I was locked.

Things came at my like meteors. Shooting stars that sparkled and flared before exploding in my faces. They screamed at me. Throwing bits of words, little snippets of random sounds and memories. Washes of experiences that ebbed and flowed into and out of me. Nothing lasted even a second, and nothing was recognizable. It was all just a random blur.

This was chaos.

A pure stripping of all order and logic left me with only the raw being that I had become after falling out of the world that one last time on the beach. Somehow, thinking of that had the memories of the waves come back to me. They melted, roaring into the white noise and crashing at glaciers of long-frozen thought.

They passed by me like I was on a boat. Paving through the open seas and tumbling down, down, down into the into the razor void, churned up into ice water by the senseless illogic that reigned over me. Everything was sucked towards a cental point, swallowed down into a drain that sucked and gurgled and stripped everything of matter and meaning, everything was analyzed and obliterated, cast aside and into utter destruction.

Hands picked and plucked at me. Fingers glided across exposed, naked thought. My mind, laid bare before the nuclear wastes of the universe, was raped by an idiot thought that had no objective but that which was fabricated by those that _could _feel. I felt violated. I fought against the jailer, screaming for someone to save me. Pleading for the universe to aid me. But nothing came to support me in my battle, and it ended with just as much acknowledgement as it began: none.

I felt like I was lost in a happy delirium. A mashed muddle of color and music. Light and sound fed into the opaque emptiness until it was drunk. All thirst slaked, the symphony danced, throwing waves and ribbons of reds and whites and greens and yellows and blues into eternity only to come crashing back down with tidal wave forces.

I fell to my knees, stricken by this onslaught; this bombardment of my most sensitive senses: the unconscious. They were so used to a soft touch, to a care and calm that allowed them to go deeper and do more than my waking mind ever could. But now those processes and all they processed were thrown into the gutter and stomped on. I felt each hit like a gunshot. The slap of pressure followed up by merciless burning that tore through my insides and left me bare to bleed.

And then, at last, I felt myself freed. I fell. I tumbled head over heels into a cold loneliness. It plucked at my soul with needles. Prickling stings crawled up and down my body in shivering waves. I curled up into the tightest, safest ball I could and tried not to look out into the desolation. Into the openness where anything could be. Where red eyes and vicious teeth and curved claws were hiding and waiting to take off my skin like corn husk, dried and worthless.

I laid there for eternity. I waited out stars. Galaxies spun into one another, crashing and destroying themselves in a beautiful display of destruction inaugurating a new beginning. The universe filled with heat like a kiln, stretching until its edges frayed and it burst like a balloon, spilling all it held into a vast, unbelievable oblivion that drowned and killed everything, turning it all to dust upon contact. The clay that had been forged and hardened throughout time cracked and shattered, spilling its contents into nothingness. Sand spilled, across the grain. It was all ended. Over.

I wondered, had I really just witnessed how the universe would end? Just as predicted by scientists and astronomers? Or was this all just the ravings of a trapped mind, screaming at itself and something else. Something that was raging around within it, and outside of it. Something was not right. That was all I knew. Something was wrong, and I had no power to fight it.

XXX

Reality returned to me in a dizzying rush. I gasped, air hurting my throat and lungs as I sucked it in. I felt it gurgle in my throat, and sat up quickly in a coughing fit, hacking up . . something. This lasted only a moment, but by the end my eyes were watering, and my vision swam, made worse by a dull ache in the back of my skull that ebbed until it filled my whole head. I groaned and screwed my eyes shut against piercing light.

I laid back down and remained still, waiting for my body to settle. As my senses came back to me, I realized I was in a bed. A soft mattress beneath me, and thin, comforting blankets covering most of my form. _Am I . . ? No, I can't be back home. This doesn't feel like . . ._

I cracked my eyes open just a little, and winced as daggers of light pierced into my pupils. I opened them further, letting them adjust to the change. At first it looked like I was in a tent. Or, maybe a hut. Everything seemed to be made of cloth, but with a wooden skeleton supporting it. Maybe the island _was _inhabited. There was an assortment of things in the tiny space. A small table or two, a few trunks in one corner, a tiny metal stove – you know, one of the old kinds with a stack – and a mirror, but it was turned away from me.

I slowly propped myself on my elbows, slow enough so as not to aggravate my head. I looked down, and it clicked that I wasn't wearing my clothes. Well, not _my_ clothes. They had been replaced by a white shift. And, apparently that was it. A breeze disturbed a loose flap of cloth, which I guessed was the "door." Splinters of light shifted and darted, in and out, until it settled. I was able to make out voices, then, from outside. Voices and other sounds, too. Birds singing; the sound of what I guessed were trees as they were disturbed by wind.

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. There was a nagging irritation; a corruption on the wind. Something was not right, plain and simple. My whole body tensed, every muscle tightening. I'd had a similar feeling before, just before the storm had hit back . . home. Like something was warning me about . . . I don't know what.

Suddenly it was as if my hearing honed in on something. A particular voice, the sound of footsteps approaching . . _the hut_! I looked around fitfully, my heartrate going into overdrive with fear. Someone brushed the flap back and stepped inside. It was a girl. She was turned away from me, calling out to someone else, but I didn't catch it. I was too afraid to process it. When she finally did turn to me, we both froze. The first thing I noticed were her eyes. One was blue, the other was green. She had short, brown hair, just a little darker than mine. Her clothes also looked very foreign. Some kind of white top secured by the oddest belt I'd ever seen, which was yellow and also had a big bow on the back of it; and a purple, pleated dress with flowery patterns on it. And from her elbows to her wrists were secured two sleeves – the kind with long ends. Though, the oddest part of this ensemble was that she had on black boots.

She composed herself quickly. I didn't. She smiled brightly, her whole face lighting up. There was a kindness in her eyes, the likes of which I'd never seen before. She was very, _very _beautiful, and looked about my age. Though, _that_ wasn't quite what I was thinking, so to speak. She took a step closer to the bed, and I backed up, my eyes wide and my whole body shaking.

Her smile faded a little, but the compassion in her bi-colored eyes did not. "Don't be frightened," _Too late_, a part of me said, "My name is Yuna, you're on Besaid. You're safe, you don't have anythi-" She stepped forward again, and I backed up as far as I could. "There's nothing to be worried about," she tried to console me, her voice soft and caring.

Obviously it didn't work. After my most recent memories, I wasn't too trusting of just about _anything_. Not to mention that I had never even heard of any place called "Besaid."

"Where am I?" I asked, my voice quivering just as badly as I was.

Yuna furrowed her brow worriedly, "Besaid," she reminded me.

"I don't know any place by that name," I said, sounding maybe a little hostile. "Where is it?" _Maybe by Hawaii? Or . . . Japan? Her clothes do look a little Japanese-y._

Her expression changed from worry to pity, "On Spira. Do you . . remember how you got here?"

_The fuck is "Spira?"_

My eyes clamped shut, the images of Daphne dying, and Daimler vanishing both playing out in crystal clear HD picture. "No," I lied, feeling compelled to hide the truth for . . some reason. It was just an impulse. A "recommendation" from one of those tiny little voices that exists only in the farthest reaches of our minds.

Yuna started to wring her hands, "May I come closer, please? I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to check your temperature." At first I felt just as happy with the suggestion as I had her earlier attempts to advance. I shifted uncomfortably, my eyes jumping around as I uselessly pretended to ponder the question. I made eye contact with her, and neither of us said anything for the eternity of a second. I nodded, reluctantly.

She took a single, fast step, and then slowed down as she approached me. I shrunk away from her, but didn't move. My eyes closed involuntarily as she placed her hand on my forehead. "Why would you need to check my temperature?" I asked, immediately feeling stupid for the obvious "here's your sign" question.

But, instead of some sarcastic remark, she kindly answered, "You've been out with a fever since we found you."

_Since we found you?_

My mouth felt like cotton, "How long-"

"Three days," she answered, withdrawing her hand. "You're still a little warm, but, you should be fine soon. Maybe even by tomorrow," there was an optimistic cheer in her voice. I _hate _optimists. But, I didn't feel that bad, so, she was probably right. She leaned down to eye level, placing her hands on her knees, and said, "I'll be right back. There's someone who wants to meet with you."

_Dammit, not another island hick_, I thought bitterly. I felt bad for the thought almost instantly. This girl seemed kind, and I was acting overly hostile, feeling overly paranoid. She seemed like she really was trying to help, who was I to be so ungrateful?

"Okay," I nodded, fighting to calm my nerves.

"I'll be right back." She promised, and then headed outside. I slumped back into the bed, every nerve in my body feeling strained and weary. I laid a hand over my eyes and massaged my temples. Where in the world was I? Besaid? Spira? I had never heard those names before in my life. Not even in passing. The confusion built up inside my head until it felt like it would explode. I took deep breaths, trying to focus on something, trying to calm down. It helped a little bit. I did start to relax, and some of the steam building up began to seep away. I lowered my hand to rest on my stomach and just stared at the thick material overhead. I would figure this all out in due time, I hoped.

My eyes drifted shut, and I focused on the background noise. Nothing felt wrong, other than, well, the obvious. The sounds of nature around me, even the sounds of the people outside – hey, I was in a hut, and huts mean villages, right? – felt relaxing. At least I was somewhere with people. Maybe there would be a satellite phone here or something. Or _boats_, even. Hell, I'd even be happy with a _canoe_ – though preferably not a dugout. Just so long as it got me off _Gilligan's Island_.

I could hear Yuna's voice again. She was getting closer to the hut and talking to someone. Someone apparently right next to her. I took a deep breath as I felt myself starting to shake again. When the tent's flap was pulled back I sat up a little, leaning on one elbow. It was this newcomer who entered first, and I was definitely taken aback.

Talk about goth gone . . wrong, maybe?

A low-cut, fur lined dress showing . . . yeah . . . with her legs hidden by what looked like a layer of connected belts, which rattled as she moved. Her black hair was tied into a knot held up by hair sticks, but a number of braids still hung down from the bundle. Her left eye was obscured by a curtain of hair, but the other . . it caught my gaze and held it. It was red, and it scared the hell out of me. There was something extremely intimidating about this woman, and not just her attire.

She regarded me with a cold, uncaring stare that analyzed and probed silently. I hated people like that. The ones who could just, well, "see" everything they needed to by looking at you.

Yuna lingered outside the hut for a moment, telling someone who I couldn't see to "wait there." She slipped back inside, smiling sympathetically. "This is Lulu," she introduced the woman. Lulu – which seemed an oddly unfitting name for her – nodded, almost imperceptibly, in response. "And Lulu, this-" her eyes lit up as something dawned on he, "Oh, I forgot to ask for her name. I'm sorry, what . . may we call you?"

I found it hard to break my eyes from Lulu. I felt like invisible hands were clawing, digging at my mind. I managed to avert my gaze to Yuna. Almost immediately I felt myself calming some. I took a breath, my shaken nerves settling some, and answered, "Rhea. My name is Rhea Daae."

Yuna brightened, "It's very nice to me-"

"Yuna says you cannot remember how you came to be here," Lulu cut in. The younger girl deflated, but not so much that it appeared it was unexpected. "Is that true?"

I kid you not, I felt like a little child in front of her mother, being asked if I had gotten into her makeup, even though I was covered in lipstick. I felt like if I lied she would catch me. So, I told what was _basically_ the truth, "Sort of."

She moved gracefully to the bed, and seated herself on the far edge. She raised one eyebrow, showing "interest" in my response, "Oh?"

I nodded, figuring it would be best to give a somewhat accurate description of events that brought me here, "Two of my friends, and I, were," I swallowed, my throat suddenly feeling very dry, "caught in a storm-"

"You're lucky you survived it," Yuna muttered softly, her eyes a fraction wider. "It was bad here, I cannot imagine what it must have been like out in the ocean amidst a storm like that."

Lulu smiled a little, "Let her finish, Yuna."

The girl made a short, quick little bow, "Of course, I apologize. Please continue."

_How strange_, I mused. "We were knocked . . into the water, and something . ." my throat clenched, and I fought off what felt like a choked sob, "Something killed one of my friends. My other friend, he . . he spotted the island. But, as we started to swim towards it he . . something must have dragged him under, because I lost sight of him!" I bit my lip and lowered my head, trying not to remember. When I looked up, Lulu's expression had darkened, and Yuna was covering her mouth with a single hand, and there was a pained expression written into the lines around her eyes. "That's all I remember. I made it to the beach, and I lost consciousness."

I watched them as Lulu seemed to be pondering my story. Yuna waited silently, her hands clasped in front of her. It looked like she maybe wanted to say or do something, anything to offer condolences or words of comfort, but she remained where she was, possibly wary of my earlier behavior. Now I really felt bad, she seemed like a really nice person. Maybe a little too caring, but not bad. Of course, that was all preliminary guesswork, reading the book's cover but not the content. I still needed to be careful.

"Maybe she came near Sin prior to coming her," Lulu said thoughtfully. _Sin? _"Or maybe that was how she and her friends ended up in the water, if Sin passed too close."

Yuna's eyes darted from me to Lulu worriedly. Okay, something was up. That was . . well . . blatantly obvious.

"Would she not be faring worse than she is?" Yuna asked.

"She was out with a fever for three days," Lulu reminded. "And from what you tell me, she is still not fully recovered." She made to check, herself, but hesitated, "Do you mind?" I shook my head, maybe a little too shakily, though. She gently tested my temperature, and nodded, satisfied with Yuna's assessments. "She should be well tomorrow, or at least much better. She should still rest. The poor child still seems quite shaken." I pursed my lips at the "poor child" bit. She took notice, and smiled wryly in response. "She has survived an ordeal, to some extent."

Yuna nodded emphatically, "At least she survived. Yevon be praised," she performed some kind of ritual bow, or something. Stepping back, making a circle in the air with her arms, and then bringing her foot back into place as she formed a sphere with her hands. Oddest damned thing I'd seen yet.

Lulu saw my confused countenance, "Mm, must have been Sin." She rose turned to Yuna, "If she wakes later be sure to bring her something to eat. She must be starving by now."

Yeah, body-by-cue, my stomach growled, and I averted my eyes out of embarrassment as heat rushed to my face.

"Quite," she murmured, and I could hear the amusement in her voice. I waited until she left to look up. Yuna was watching me a little nervously. "I will . . be back later to check on you. You're safe now, and-"

"Yuna." I blurted out, feeling guilt creeping into my heart. "I'm sorry for how I acted a little bit ago. I shouldn't have-"

"You were confused. Disoriented." She shook her head, her hair dancing around her face as she did so, "It's all right. Now, rest. I'll be back later." With a nod, she exited the hut. For a few minutes I just watched the flap, not sure quite how to feel at the moment. Slowly I laid back down and turned onto my side. I drew the blankets up around my head and closed my eyes. Remembering what had happened to Daphne and Daimler had stirred something in me.

I started to cry. Silent tears streamed onto the pillow as my body was wracked by tremors. Now that I had the time to process it, now that I could think properly, I mourned my friends. I remembered their faces, their failings and their strengths, our times together. I remembered it all, and I wept for their passing.


	5. Chapter 4: A Bridge Upon the Border

Chapter 4: There Is A Bridge on the Border

I was walking in a painting. Every detail was a smudge or a blur of color. Valleys of shading and lighting, crevices of texture and detail. Blotches here and there; broken, uneven lines of shapes and forms. Smeared pocks and wrinkles on the canvas. There were clear markings. Bends and curves in the color. Lines from the painter's brush. Paths of creation.

Everything seemed so surreal. It was almost dizzying, the game that it all played on the mind. From a distance it looked solid, tangible. But up close you could clearly see the patterns and the textures. The random blots and smudges of color that made the image. The formless, given form by mere perception of the mind. Taken in, and seen as more than meaningless mess. It _was _something. But _what_ that was, behind the proposition of the artist and the intention of the mind, was a mystery. At least to me.

I stood in the middle of a small village, in a circle of stone amidst a sea of dirt. Nothing moved, nothing stirred, and nothing made a sound. There were palm trees encroaching on the clearing, made and kept by man. But huts along the border were the frontline of this nature war, and they held their grounds. The fierce bastion of this campaign was something else, though. A larger structure. Tall, wide and gray. A building of stone. The body of it was farther back, but the roof leaned out menacingly in an overhang, stating: "_This land is mine_," and it had the territory, the foundation, to prove it. A stone glacier that tore up the brown dust. A monument to man's destructive powers. Haughty and feeble. Frail, but only by the forger's palm, and the motion of the earth.

I could tell it was a dream. My mind was not locked into this one as if it were real. No, it told me true that this was false. But why was I here? And where was I? That, it did not say. Maybe it didn't know, or maybe I wasn't supposed to yet. At least consciously. Otherwise why would it be shown to me? Then again, why were any dreams shown to us? It was my subconscious working in a way that escaped me, speaking not with words but with silent wisdom, giving me symbols and a puzzle. Well, I wasn't in much of a mood for Sudoku.

_Could I walk?_

I lifted my foot, and the paint swam like disturbed water to accommodate the change in scenery.

_"The ripple in the still pool."_

Liquid through one ear, air out the other. I was forced to ignore the voice. Made not to care, made not to mind. I carried on. The ground beneath my feet did not react like dirt. There were no footprints, no signs of my traveling. Not even the sound. All was a dull, muffled quiet. I went on, regardless. Something was leading me, like on a leash. I could almost see it. Strands of web-like cords piercing me like a puppet, leading me ever onward.

I stopped at the building's steps. My foot crashed down onto it with a leaden weight. My other foot dragged as I raised it higher, fighting to move forward. Every footfall resounded with an explosive force inside my head, and caused the colors of this painted world to run and bleed and swim. It only slowed me for a moment. Once I had cleared the steps, the burden was gone.

The shadows of the overhands grew denser and darker, folding in around me like the corners of a sheet of paper or the walls of a cage, bending inward until I was trapped. But they parted before me, clearing a thin path through the gloom. A narrow walkway in the encroaching night. I was in a Van Gogh painting gone mad.

My trek continued.

I passed a threshold, and the interior of the building ignited in a clap of bright darkness, falling out of sync with everything around it. I thought I was back in the void, and for a moment my heart raced with terrific fear at the thought of being lost once more in that deep. But this did not have the same crushing, fathomless, suffocating emptiness of the void. I calmed immediately, and on cue a flight of stone steps rose up from the black, one step at a time. The door at the top fell open, inviting me in. I accepted the invitation.

The gloom on the other side was cold and damp. The air was slick with icy particles that clung to me like sweat, but seemed a heavy coating. Almost slimy. A bitter chill chased the blood from my veins, and turned my skin deathly white. Every step echoed like thunder, and reverberated within my bones. Everything seemed alive where nothing should have been.

Shadows slipped and crawled across the walls, flitting through the air – briefly three-dimensional. They posed no threat, but they did give me cause for alarm. It felt like something wanted to scare me. Like something did not want me here. Or, maybe something did, but only with the expressed purpose of frightening me.

But to what end?

I arrived at a disk of stone, different from all other sections of the floor. Glossy marble with golden runes inlaid a billions years before a human race walked. A terrible reminder of some secret only those dead could know. I did not care to, or perhaps I was not supposed to. Either way, I stepped onto the platform; I felt an end was near.

It took me down. Low, low, low into the chthonic caverns of the universe. To places where silent things slept, and ancient things crawled. The lift shuddered to a stop, and before me a single road was lit, if one could call it "lit". The corridor was frozen in time, frozen in space. Kept in place by something that desired it be there for whatever purpose it may sooner or later need.

Before me, at the end of the tunnel, was an open room. Empty of anything, even of air. My shadow bent and stretched before me, lengthening and melting into something unrecognizable. It touched the center stone of the room, and congealed into a solid shape that slithered into a figure. My blood curdled as it took shape; made a form for itself.

The darkness bowed the knee before the figure that turned to me.

_Me_.

A voice cut in, stopping the nightmare, and with a shattering whisper it said: "_Not ready_." And the dream world exploded.

XXX

It must have been some time later when I woke up. The color of the material of the hut seemed dimmer, and the interior was much darker than before. For a minute I just stared at the ceiling silently, letting myself wake up. The dream faded, as most dreams do, until it was scant more than a blurry, chopped up ride of nonsensical images gushing drunkenly one after the other. Like NASCAR, but for schizos and not rednecks.

I rubbed my eyes and looked around. I was startled to find Yuna, seated with her legs tucked beneath her, with her back to me, over by the small stove. How long she had been there, I'd no idea. I stretched as I sat up, and either the stirring of the sheets, or maybe a small groan, caught her attention, because she immediately started and turned.

"Evening," she greeted, a smile in her eyes.

I looked around and yawned, "Yeah, figures." I always hated waking up late in the day, and this was no exception. There was a feeling of worthlessness in my chest, a drained depression of sorts.

"I was wondering if you would wake up again today," she said as she got to her feet, a little shakily. "How do you feel?"

A disgusted groan served as a portent to: "Jacked up." She tilted her head in response. I blinked and shook my head, "Fine; just groggy, I guess."

"Ah," she nodded. "'Jacked . . . up'?"

I couldn't help but stifle a chuckle, she looked so damned confused. "Essentially, it means 'messed up'."

"Oh, I've never heard it before." She explained.

_No kidding_, "Doesn't matter," I shook my head to dismiss the issue. No need in carrying on about it or anything. Talk about sheltered life. Or . . isolated life, as the case may be.

"Do you feel well enough to eat?" She asked, approaching the bed and testing my temperature as she asked.

Ignoring the impromptu check-up, I said, "Yeah. Can I ask you a question?"

She stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her, "Of course."

"What were you doing, before I woke up?" I asked, pointing over to where she had been sitting.

She looked back over her shoulder, "Oh, I was meditating. I'm supposed to meditate throughout the day as part of my training. It helps me prepare."

As much of an answer as it was, it served only to raise more questions. Namely: "Training for what?"

"To be a summoner."

_The hell?_

I nodded, averting my eyes, "Right."

Yuna's expression changed a little. It was hard to read, but it seemed like she was debating whether or not to say something. "It will come back to you, eventually. I'm sure of it," she finally settled on, and masked any pretenses of earlier embattlement.

"I hope so," I muttered halfheartedly, not really caring if it sounded at all convincing. I never liked lying, but I wasn't sure why I was doing it _now_. Something suppressed deep in my mind just kept pushing me away from the truth. The odd prickling notion came to life in the back of my head, but I wasn't sure what it was. It was nothing more than a feeling, really. Some thought unformed.

Yuna went to the stove, where a small metal pot was steaming. I couldn't tell what it was, but there was a vague salty scent in the air. My stomach growled again as all my senses woke up. She ladled some of whatever it was into a clay bowl and brought it over to me. At the risk of sounding like a jerk, I admit I was a little disappointed. All right, so I had been out sick for a few days, so I still needed to be careful just in case. However, I was quite starved.

Broth was not what I had been praying for.

Either way, I accepted it with a smile, which she returned, and I cautiously sipped at the steaming liquid. At least it had flavor, but that worked slightly adversely, because it made me hungry for _real_ food. All I could do was hope it would tide me over until I could get my hands on something, oh, I don't know, _solid_.

She seated herself on the edge of the bed and watched me silently; abstracted, from what I could tell. It wasn't creepy or anything, her mind was simply elsewhere. It was awkward for me, though. I tried to focus on the broth, and not on her. But, try as I might, my eyes kept getting drawn back to hers. I had never once actually met someone with . . well, I'd forgotten the term for it. Two eye colors, it was something older stages of human civilization had feared because it was an oddity. I found it beautiful. But, then again, I was from modern America, not Dark Ages Europe taking stupid pills for breakfast and listening to the Catholic Church.

I'd often envied people with those qualities. Finding little flaws in myself that didn't fit the inner image of what I felt I should look like. I knew it wasn't healthy to linger on stuff like that, but I couldn't help it. Just more insecurities, I guess.

"If you'd like, I could show you around the village tomorrow. If you're feeling well enough, that is." Yuna offered. "I'll be busy for most of the morning, but afterwards I'll be free."

I lowered the rim of the bowl a little, almost as if I was peeking out at her like some scared little rabbit. "S-Sure," I stammered, mentally slapping myself, "That sounds fine."

She nodded, "Then it's settled." Her smile was infectious. I felt some of the stress, some of the weight of confusion, erode, and I offered a smaller, weaker smile in return. Once I was finished "eating" she took the bowl and placed it by the stove, which she then tended for a moment. Something else started eating at me, and a wave of nervous dizziness washed over me momentarily. A sense of intrusion.

"Yuna?"

"Hm?" She asked, without turning around.

I sucked in a nervous breath, "This is . . your place, isn't it?"

"Yes," she nodded, "I have been staying with Lulu for the time being." As if on cue, the reason behind my query seemed to click. She turned to face me and shook her head, "It's no trouble. I thought you would rest better here than in the Crusader's Lodge." And again with the odd terms I know nothing about. Seriously, it was all knocking at the inside of my skull like a legion of ice picks.

"You sure?" I was always skeptical about these things. Maybe it had to do with where I was from; the society I was raised in. Or, then again, maybe it was just _me_.

"Absolutely," she asserted firmly. She dealt with the stove a moment more, and then rose to her feet. The world outside was growing rapidly darker, and the inside of the hut was growing darker still. Yuna lit what resembled an old-fashioned lamp and dimmed it to a perfect lighting. "I'll be going now," she informed me, moving towards the trunks. "I probably won't see you when you wake tomorrow," she began rummaging through one until she pulled out what she needed: a plain, sleeveless, blue dress. She sat it on the trunk's lid and faced me, "The clothes you were wearing are, well . ."

I nodded, "I understand. Thank you."

She smiled again, and gave me a quick, short bow, "You're welcome. Lulu may check on you in my absence, or possibly Wakka, another of my guardians."

_Guardians? Oh, boy._

Halfway through the flap she paused to say, "Goodnight," and then she was gone. I stared at the flap for a moment, suddenly not really knowing what to do. My eyes wandered around the hut, catching on flickering shapes and shadows. I swallowed and drew my legs in, hugging them closer to me. I felt alone. Alone, afraid, and confused. I kind of wished she had stayed. I found myself trusting her, but I wasn't sure why. I didn't trust people easily, not ever. Maybe it was the emotional stress creating a need for me to connect with someone. Or maybe it was just how kind she seemed. With her bright smile and her shining eyes. She had a soothing, comforting quality about her. That much was obvious.

But, in her absence I was all alone in my own personal void. All on my own on an alien island only God knew where. And in that dim enclosure I was isolated. All I could hear was the rushing of the trees, like waves. The odd voice or two from somewhere outside. Sounds of animals calling in the distance. This was probably a tropical island, which meant exotic, possibly dangerous animals. More than likely dangerous, actually.

I remained frozen in place, frozen in time, frozen in will. I just sat there, and took in what my senses could perceive. The empty roar of nature around me as the light faded into deepest black. The expanse of remoteness, free of so many of the poisons of the world I had come to know. A better place, or a backwards rut in time. A paradise lost, or a stubborn stagnation that refused to be swept up in the currents of time and "progress". I didn't know. It was too early to tell. And then there was that growing thought in my mind that refused to show itself, the one that I felt had the key to the door, the answer to the question.

On a whim I quietly kicked off the covers, the cool air making my legs crawl with goose bumps. Another wash of that awkward feeling of intrusion came over me, and a nervous shiver shook me. I padded to the lantern and gently lifted it from its seat. My mouth dry as parchment, I crept to the mirror and raised the lantern high enough to light the whole of the glass.

I nearly gasped. I looked almost cadaverous. My skin was just a step away from sickly pale, and there were fading dark rings beneath my eyes. I combed my fingers through my hair, which had become unruly, and tucked a few locks behind my right ear, leaving strands of it partially obscuring my left eye, which it usually did when not pinned back.

I set the lantern back where it had been and climbed back into the bed. The soft mattress and warm blankets drew in around me like a welcoming shield. I sank as deep as I could into them and closed my eyes. It was then, however, that I realized someone may have seen the light inside the hut moving around, if it had been strong enough to shine through. I doubted it was that bright, but I prayed softly that no one came to check. Slowly, and quietly, I drifted into sleep.

XXX

When your first words upon waking happen to be: "Oh, god," perhaps you should look at where your life is going. In my case, anyway, I sorta knew where it was going. I was on _Lost_. I half expected the too-commanding doctor and the jackass cowboy dude to be arguing someone nearby when I woke up, and that the no-longer-crippled guy would be in the jungle hunting pigs. That lasted for the short time that I was on the bridge between reality and dream, where what you think is coherent and real may be just as imaginary as your funny uncle's friend: the pink elephant.

I pried my eyes open and rubbed them sleepily, clearing that gritty shit away and wincing as sunlight hit my pupils, filtered by the cloth of the hut. I could hear the sounds of people outside. Sounded like the village's morning routines were in full swing. A few dogs were barking in the distance, accompanied by the sounds of laughing children. Maybe this would be more like a paradise and less like a paradise lost, I thought, if you'll pardon the terrible pun.

I sat up and stretched, feeling my head clear and the joints in my back pop. I pondered on what to do, now that I was awake. Yuna had said she'd show me the village once she was done with her "training". But, she had also said that _that_ wouldn't be done until later in the morning, or maybe even around midday, and I had no way of judging what time it was. So, my options were either wait until she got back or go out on my own looking for Lulu amidst a bunch of strangers.

Yeah, here were the problems with those:

Because I had no idea what time it was, I had no way of knowing just how long she'd be gone. For all I knew it could have been a few minutes. Or, just as likely, a few _hours_. Or I could sit and wait until Lulu or "Wakka" decided to check on me and see how I was doing. And the other . . well . . there was no chance in hell I was going out there on my own, so there it was. To make matters worse, I was still pretty hungry.

I was stonewalled.

I slowly laid back down and closed my eyes, breathing out slowly as I ran over any other options. Just trying to do something to pass the time until someone dropped by. And by "someone" I meant Lulu or Yuna, them being the only two people I had actually _seen_ up to this point. I didn't know who this Wakka person was and I wasn't gonna be trusting anyone until I was introduced.

As I lay there, I could almost imagine myself back home. Back in my own bed – albeit with the blinds open – and in my own room. I wondered if they were looking for us. Our families would probably be terrified. I felt my blood go cold and my throat clench as I thought of returning alone, with the news of Daphne and Daimler's deaths. The looks their parents would give me. They would probably hate me as they watched my own mother and father, happy to have their daughter back, and knowing that _they _would never get to see_ their_ children alive and well, ever again. I knew what they would be thinking, and I couldn't help but question it, myself: _Why was I still alive? Why me and not them? Why?_

I opened my eyes, not wanting to think on that anymore. The thought of home, as comforting as it had been, had become a nightmare. I dunno. Maybe I was teleported to another dimension or planet or something and wouldn't have to worry about disappointing them or seeing that resentment in the eyes of people I once thought of as almost family. Then again, what about my parents? I was still alive, unreachable or not. I threw the thought away. There was no point in fantasies like that.

But, that made me wonder: _Why is that so far-fetched?_ _You _were _just sucked into a black hole in the sky, right? And then tossed out in some ocean, right? And what about all the weird stuff they've been saying? Stuff about "Spira" and "Besaid" and all that other junk, huh? What about _that_? _

My brain had a point.

That didn't mean I wanted to consider it. It was a possibility, I'd admit. After all that _had_ just happened, a _lot_ of stuff just became somewhat plausible. Somewhat. I wasn't willing to pay it any more mind. It was absurd. It was ludicrous. And why did I sound so much like someone who was in _denile_?

I groaned and rubbed my forehead. This was all so confusing. I had no idea what was going on, and there was nothing more to do but wait and see what happened. Eventually I would have my answers, no matter how long I had to wait. I had to keep telling myself that. I hated these kinds of mysteries. I desperately wanted to know more, and I _really_ did not want to wait to understand. But I shouldn't be obsessing when there was no way to _get_ any answers, yet. I just had to wait. I had to lay there, and wait. Which was what I'd been doing. Ever since I woke up. How long had that been, exactly? Couldn't have been too long. Probably just a minute, knowing how time dragged by when you wanted it to move. I would just need to be patient, keep my cool, and lay there.

_When the fuck is something going to happen?_

I rolled my eyes, patience would definitely be out of the question. I would probably have been doing better had I been moving around and not just laying there like a lump on a log. But, as previously established – though not in so many words: what was there for a lump to do but be a lump?

_Oh, so I'm a lump now?_

I had to get outta there.

The curtain pulled back, and I sat up quickly, greeted by a nice left-hook from nausea and Lulu, whose eyes widened a little, "Oh!" She sounded surprised. I groaned and slowly laid back down, waiting for my head to clear. "I wasn't so sure you would be awake," she informed, making her way over to the side of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

I rolled my eyes, feeling like an idiot, "I shouldn't have moved so fast," I mumbled. It sounded like: "Ishudnuhmvdsuhfst," but Lulu just smiled softly.

She laid her hand on my forehead, "You seem well enough, as I should hope so." She seated herself on the bed, hands folded in her lap in an almost regal manner. She observed me silently for a moment, but without that overbearing and intrusive feeling from the first time. "How are you holding up?" She asked, actually sounding sincere. Hell, maybe she was, I couldn't tell. At least she was going out of her way to ask, right? Maybe she really _did_ care.

"I'm fine, I guess," I answered. Mostly truthful. "I just keep thinking about what . . what I'm gonna say to their families," my eyes lowered to the bed, where I picked restlessly at the blanket.

Lulu watched my hand pensively, "I see. You fear they will resent you, no?" I nodded, keeping silent. The feeling sank in. The anxiety. I hated it. "You shouldn't blame yourself. And they should not blame you, even though . . it _is_ human nature, sadly enough." She stood and walked toward the trunks, "Are your parents alive, Rhea?"

They thought I had amnesia, or something like that, so I couldn't sound _sure_ of too many things, "I think so. I'm not sure."

"The memories will return, in time. They always do," She picked up the dress and examined it, "Yuna told me she laid this out for you." She came back to the bed and handed it to me, "Whether they be happy, or otherwise, they will return. Can you walk?"

I accepted the clothing, and nodded, "I think so."

She smiled kindly, which still seemed alien for her, "I'll be waiting outside, if you can. Some exercise should do you good." And, with that, she walked back through the curtain. I exhaled slowly, and looked down at the dress. The material felt like wool, but it wasn't really thick, or anything. I slid out of the bed and discarded the shift, my skin prickling because of the cold air and the thought of me suddenly wearing _nothing_ in a strange place. I hurriedly slipped the dress on, and the feeling abated. I hoped I'd get some better clothes soon. I didn't really like dresses all that much. But, it was a favor, and I had no right to protest. It went down to just a little below my knees, was a little tighter in the waist, and came a little _too_ close to displaying cleavage. Thankfully it just _almost_ did.

I took a deep breath, mustered my courage, and stepped outside. Insta-blind went into effect, and I had to shield my eyes just long enough for them to get used to the sudden glare. Once everything settled, and I could look around, I was surprised by what I saw.

All around me were a bunch of huts just like the one I'd come out of. Some made with a variety of different colors and mismatched materials. People, wearing some of the oddest clothes I'd seen yet – which was kinda odd, thinking back on the shock Lulu's attire had given me – milled about doing . . well . . work, I guess. There weren't a _whole_ lot of people, but there were enough to make a village, I guess. If that makes sense. A few huts had corrals in between them. They were made of wood and sticks, and to my surprise they held cattle and sheep, mostly. There were a few dogs and children running around here and there, of course. My eyes swept over the scene, taking it all in with a little bit of awe, maybe. It all looked so out of place. There was one big tent on my side – the left – of the village that basically dwarfed all the rest. But, as I looked on, I realized something. The barren, dirt ground. The stone circle in the center of it all, and . . . My mouth fell open when I saw it. The huge, almost evil looking presence of a dark stone building, frozen as it stepped out into the dry dust.

This had been in my dream. All of it. How could that be? How could I have dreamed _any_ of this when I had never seen any of it beforehand? It didn't make any sense, and I didn't have time to ponder it, either. I realized I looked like a gaping dork-fish – ah, Bill Engvall – just in time to hear Lulu call me out on it.

"Is something the matter?" She asked, giving me one of those looks. It seemed to be hiding an icy propensity, and I wondered what this woman was like when someone managed to be stupid enough to piss her off.

"N-No," I answered quickly, shaking my head. "Deja vu, I guess."

Her eyes narrowed quizzically, "Hm?"

I blinked. That was the second time someone hadn't understood a relatively common saying. Weird. _Live long and prosper._ "Uh, it means that it feels like I've been here before," I said with a shaky laugh.

She seemed to accept it. "Is that Al Bhed?" She inquired. There was something odd in the way she asked that. I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

"'Al Bhed'?" I asked, cocking my head.

Lulu shook her head, "Never mind. You must have come quite close to Sin, for a case this bad."

I didn't know what "Sin" was, and I wasn't gonna ask. Well, I mean, I knew what the concept of "sin" was, per say. The whole transgressions and "thou shalt not" stuff. I wasn't a big religious person, really. I respected others' beliefs – to a point – but I'd never gone to church, or anything. I guess I believed in karma. You do shit, shit gets you back, basically. I admitted that it was possible there was a god, but I didn't actually believe in one, personally. However, I had no idea what Lulu and Yuna were talking about. They could have meant what I was thinking of, but I had a funny feeling that told me otherwise. In any case, I didn't pursue answers. I didn't like getting those queer looks.

"Yo, Lu!" A heavily accented male voice called out. I followed Lulu's gaze to a man with . . well . . first thought, honestly, when I saw his hair: _Whoa_. Bright orangey-red colored, with a towering coif. He had a blue, cloth bandana wrapped around his forehead, and a stubbly chin. His clothes . . just as weird as everyone else's. He didn't really wear so much a shirt as it was a . . I dunno. It was held up by straps, but only really covered the lower half of his torso, and had an upward triangular split in the middle. His blue pants were mostly covered by these poofy yellow things strapped to his belt, and his left arm was protected by a series of guards and an upright spaulder of some kind. The two "normal" things about him? His sandals and his fish necklace.

I cast a sidelong glance at Lulu, "Who-"

"Wakka," she answered irritably, her eyes half-lidded. I made an "o" with my mouth.

"Yuna mentioned him. Sorta," I said.

"'Sort of'?" She asked.

"Yeah, she didn't really say anything about him," I said, watching him weave through villagers.

"Well, you're in for a treat," she said, smiling sardonically. Yeah, this seemed like it could be interesting.

He approached us wearing a big, goofy looking grin that just made him seem likable. "I was hopin' I'd get a chance to catch up wit' you before goin' down to practice, ya?" He sounded almost Hawaiian. That gave me a little bit of hope. The palms trees and all, but . . . Hawaii? Really? How in the . . ?

Lulu gave him a snide smile, a dangerous glint in her ruby eyes, "Mm. I was worried about that."

"You keep sayin' dat, ya?" He laughed. "Eh, you'd be missin' me if sumthin' happened." He seemed to finally notice me, and his eyes widened a little in surprise. "Oh, you . . uh, Rhea?" I nodded, not really knowing what to say. "I'm Wakka. Heard you already met Lu and Yuna. Sorry to hear 'bout what happened, ya?" I looked off to the side uncomfortably. I get that people wanted to express their condolences, but it honestly tended to just make things worse.

"She may not appreciate being reminded over and over, Wakka," Lulu scolded softly. Damn, this woman was scary.

Wakka rubbed the back of his neck and looked at me apologetically, "Oh, uh . . didn't think about that. My bad, ya?"

I shook my head, "No, it's all right. Thank you." I gave him as confident a smile as I could. He practically beamed back, just radiating jollity.

"You said you had something to tell me?" Lulu asked, pulling him back on track. She cocked an eyebrow expectantly.

"Oh!" He laughed, "Yuna said not to show her any of the good stuff yet, ya?"

"I see," Lulu murmured. "Is that all?"

Someone at the other end of the village called out, "Yo, Wakka!" The red haired man turned just in time to catch a blue ball soaring through the air. It was white with blue paint on it, decorated with with a band of some kind of yellow writing that I couldn't make out around the middle.

Wakka yelled something back before turning to us, "Gotta go. Nice meeting you," he said to me. "I'll see you later, ya?" He gave Lulu a big grin and jogged off through the villagers.

"That certainly went better than I expected," Lulu sounded a little peeved. She was definitely a no-nonsense woman, meaning Wakka definitely gave her hell, I assumed.

"Seems like a happy guy," I noted.

"Yes, and it feels like the world's longest running gag," she said with a tight smile. "In any case, at least he's gone now."

"You two don't get along very well, do you?" I asked, stepping back to allow a man leading two cows room to pass.

"I wouldn't say that," Lulu tilted her head, the beads knocking together as her braids moved. "We have our moments where he tests my patience, but for the most part I put up with him." Now she sounded rather pleasant, her voice softer than it had been around Wakka. "He's a good man, just not very bright."

"I know the feeling," I murmured, rolling my eyes.

"Come," Lulu began to walk, and I followed close to her side, looking around at this alien environment. You didn't see much stuff like this unless you watched the Travel Channel, or something. And even then, it was nothing like actually _being_ there. "So, tell me about your friends. What were they like?" She quickly added, "Unless you would rather not think about them, of course."

I took a moment to consider my answer, working my mouth as I searched for the right words. "I'd known them since we were little," I began.

"What were their names?"

"Daimler, and Daphne," I said. Each one flashed through my mind as I said their names. "Daimler, or 'Daim', as we liked to call him, was kinda the rock that held us together. He was levelheaded, down to earth, and one of the smartest people I've ever met. Daphne was fiery, and a little erratic, but fiercely loyal to us both. They were always looking out for me." I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. "I was kinda the runt of the three, you know? I was always the weaker one, the one they had to protect. I didn't like it, but . . getting out of your comfort zone is something I've always struggled with. But they supported me, and I don't think I'd be who I am today if it weren't for them."

We paused in the center of the village, on the stone circle. I turned on my heels, looking around at everyone and everything. I could see the village's exit and the dirt road leading out into the expanse of the island. There were a few men pacing around the pillars, probably guards. Everything seemed so laid back here, even with all the hustle and bustle. It just felt truly alive.

"They sound like blessings," Lulu said as I observed the village. A warm breeze tossed my hair, and a flock of birds passed overhead, just complimenting the whole of it. "You seem to be handling their losses well."

A light smile played at the corners of my mouth, "Daimler once gave me some advice. He told me that I should never dwell on tragedy, but that I should never forget it. That I should let it make me stronger. Because, in the end, our memories are who we are, and I should never forget what made me into what I am today."

I heard her laugh softly, "Very wise. You would do well to continue heeding his words."

I turned to face her and nodded, "I will." I looked back at the village entrance, "How big is the island?"

"Besaid is relatively small. Even smaller than its sister, Kilika. Both are popular along trade ports, especially for the Marinere," Lulu answered patiently. Two words made me want to pound my skull out with a rock: Kilika and Marinere. I had never heard those names before. Kilika, I assumed, was another island; but, "Marinere"? No idea. Sounded like a term for a certain kind of people, though, by the way she had used it. "The Messengers frequent here often, given how relatively isolated it is. Oh!" I turned around quickly, worried as to the cause of the exclamation. She chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I don't know how it slipped my mind," she shook her head.

"What?" I asked nervously.

"Nothing bad, I assure you," she said, taking note of how I sounded. "The next time the Messengers send an envoy, perhaps you should enlist their service. They may be able to find someone who knows you."

"Messengers?" I asked.

Lulu nodded, "Of course. The Messengers are a freelance group, not quite in the service of Yevon," she said. Honestly, this was all getting annoying. What the hell was Yevon? "They tend to offer a variety of services ranging from delivering messages – from which they derive their name – to acting as guardians, for the right price."

"Kinda like mercenaries, then?"

Lulu tilted her head thoughtfully, "Not quite soldiers of fortune; mostly for security purposes, usually."

"Oh," I nodded. "Alrighty, then."

"Pay it no mind, it's quite all right," she said with a good humored smile.

"Yeah, but I hate sounding so lost," I grumbled. Okay, at this point, I was seriously wondering just why I was pretending to have amnesia. But, every time I even _considered_ saying anything, that little voice in the back of my head suddenly whipped out a knife and threatened me with bodily harm. Problems, much?

"So," I began, wanting to redirect the conversation, "Who found me?"

"A Marinere, actually," Lulu answered. Those damned terms. "A merchant docked the morning after the storm and spotted you. He alerted the village, wondering if you were one of ours. We said 'no', but took you in, regardless. You were ill, after all."

"Thanks for that, by the way," I said.

"Yuna is never one to turn down those in need," she said, shaking her head lightly. "She would have caused quite a fuss had we not. She has a big heart, and it can be a little troublesome at times. But, at least it is in the right place."

"The world could use more people like that," I murmured.

"Quite," she laid a hand on my shoulder and gently turned me around. "Speaking of Yuna . . ." She trailed off, no need to continue. Yuna was coming down the steps of the huge building lording over the village. And behind her was . . .

I was seriously getting tired of this.

However, of all that I'd seen so far, _this _took the cake. A _tall_, humanoid feline . . something. I didn't know whether to call it a person or an animal. Its fur was blue, and the shaft of a long weapon strapped to it back projected over its shoulder. It was practically rippling with muscle. Impressive, and yet terrifying. The way it tagged behind Yuna made me think of a lion standing guard over its cub.

"Surprised to see a Ronso?" Lulu asked, a subtle lilt of amusement in her voice.

Bemusedly, I said, "I . . I'm not . . never mind," I groaned, shaking myself mentally. Well, at least I knew it was called "a Ronso", whatever the fuck _that_ was. Yuna waved to us as she came down off the steps, already a smile adorned her face. The green and blue burned with vigor as she and her _sentinel_ approached.

She gave the both of us a curt bow, "Good morning," she greeted me.

"Morning," I replied, still a bit shocked by the . . Ronso, which I tried not to look at. Considering how _big_ he – my guess as to its gender – was, it was way easier said than done. I just kept darting little looks his way.

"I'm glad to see you're looking better today. I hope you slept well." She sounded like a doctor checking up on her patient. Which, of course, was basically what was going on.

"Soundly," I assured her.

"I hope Wakka gave you my message," Yuna said, turning her eyes to Lulu. She'd sounded a little mischievous for a moment, there.

Lulu inclined her head, "Yes, he did. Bugging both Rhea _and_ I. The poor dear should not be dealing with Wakka in her state." I rolled my eyes and folded my arms over my chest. She hadn't said it unkindly, but that still didn't change the fact that she'd _said _it. My eyes began to wander again. The temple was pretty imposing, kind of like the Gothic cathedrals with their towering spires and dark countenances. Almost evil in appearance, ironically enough. I realized I was only getting a few passing glances from villagers. Most either didn't know anything, had forgotten, or just didn't care. Personally, I liked the lack of fuss. It would have just made me want to crawl into a hole and avoid as much of it as I possibly could, if not all of it.

Yuna shook her head, "He's not all that bad," she said to me.

"I didn't mind. Honestly," I insisted, looking back and forth between the two – with a nervous glance here and there at the "Ronso".

"You see?" Yuna said to Lulu, a playfully triumphant air in her voice. "You'll be trying to turn everyone against Wakka, next thing we know!"

"We should all be so lucky," Lulu commented wryly.

Yuna sighed, "There is no reasoning with you."

This was an exchange I figured happened every so often, in one form or another. In any case, I kept out of it.

"As you implored that I leave you something to show her, I merely engaged her in conversation for the short time we waited for you. If you'd like, I will busy myself elsewhere, and let you have all the fun."

Yuna nodded, "If you don't mind, of course."

"Very well." With a curt nod to Yuna, and then to me, Lulu turned and walked gracefully away through the villagers. I couldn't help but think, _Nice exit_.

"She's one of the more interesting people I think I've ever met," I said to myself as I watched her depart. "Scary," I turned back to Yuna, "but interesting, all the same."

She giggled, and nodded faintly, "She is different. But, she's been like a sister to me for years now. She may seem cold at times, but I think she may just be hiding some personal demons. Everyone has their own, right? Just some more than others, I suppose."

_Impressively put, ma'am!_

I felt inadequated.

"I guess that makes sense. She didn't seem all that bad when talking to me, though."

Yuna cocked her head, "Maybe she likes you. She's a good judge of character." She seemed to remember something, then, "Oh, my apologies," she stepped aside and gestured to the Ronso, "Rhea, this is my oldest guardian: Kimahri."

I looked at "Kimahri" head on, now. Feeling a little braver about doing so, now that I had an excuse to. I nodded slowly, "Hey," I croaked, embarrassingly. I quickly cleared my throat and shuffled nervously. He didn't respond. At all. He just looked at me disinterestedly for a moment, and then looked away.

"He doesn't tend to say very much," Yuna explained. She turned to face me again, "So, would you like me to show you around, now?"

I nodded, her smile becoming infectious, "Sounds great." I cast a sidelong glance at the temple, the memory of it from my dream flaring back to life in my head. How was it possible that I'd dreamed of it? Of any of this?


End file.
